All the Pieces Come Together
by Holly Wills
Summary: Fourteen hours are not enough to set up a romantic date night... Or are they? [InoShika, ChoKaru, fluff] / cover image by cosmiktea
1. Fourteen Hours

_4:13 a.m._

With a weary grimace, Shikamaru watched as Ino tried to maneuver the scissors around the paper again. She had been attempting, for the past hour and a half, to cut a series of hearts, but her alcohol-induced, understandably subpar hand-eye coordination wasn't doing her any favors. The result was a scattered mess of unevenly cut strips of paper – some of them rounded, others jagged, but none of them holding any semblance to the shape of her liking – littered around her.

Ino pursed her lips and blew her bangs to the side as she steadied the blades against the colored paper once more. "Third time's the charm," she muttered under her breath, eyebrows furrowing in single-minded focus.

If Shikamaru had a death wish, he would have told her that her third time's passed quite a ways ago, but he liked his head where it was at, thank you very much, and, besides, there was some sick sort of joy to be derived from watching the usually self-possessed Yamanaka Ino stumble through a simple task.

Not that he particularly enjoyed shaming his former teammate – annoying as she was – but the half-empty bottle of wine sitting on the formerly-coffee-now-liquor table was throwing his inhibitions out the door.

Which reminded him.

Reaching an arm out, Shikamaru grabbed the bottle and took another swig of wine, fresh from Iwagakure and very, very effective at doing what it ought to do. Ino had chosen it primarily for its high alcohol content, wallowing as she was in self-piteous misery and general godforsakenness, but had relinquished it to his care as soon as the shape-cutting started to confuse her.

Fortunately, his (Ino-delegated) task wasn't as focus-intensive; otherwise, he had no idea how he was supposed to survive the night.

Tucking the bottle carefully between two cushions, Shikamaru turned to the pile of CDs on the corner and tried to remember which ones he hadn't played yet. Ino had insisted on the "best-est music only" but gave no criteria as to what that entailed, so he had spent the better part of an hour looking for a suitable song, playing the tracks one by one on her portable radio and choosing whatever sounded slow enough to dance to.

It wasn't that difficult – given that her taste in music lay somewhere between girly pop, upbeat bar themes, and crooning ballads – but it didn't mean that sitting and listening through her whole repertoire of collected CDs wasn't troublesome.

Ergo, the wine.

A loud yelp from across the room announced that Ino had managed to, yet again, jab herself. Shikamaru sighed but didn't bother glancing up this time. There were no surprises there; most likely, the same sight would greet him: Ino, her thumb or whatever injured finger slipped between her lips, looking teary-eyed and frustrated as she knelt in the middle of her failed paper crafts.

"Have you found anything yet?" she called out, her voice expectedly muffled. "Oh, please, _please_ tell me you have."

She sounded anxiously desperate, perhaps realizing just then how absolutely bonkers and half-baked her plan was. Shikamaru could have told her that the moment she dragged him out of bed, but, again, he wasn't suicidal, nor was he looking to be rid of any of his limbs.

"I think so," he answered, gesturing vaguely at the stack of CDs. "See if you like anything."

"Mmm, great. At least something's going right."

There was a bit of shuffling as Ino struggled to stand, tipsy from half the contents of her Iwagakure wine bottle and the two cans of beer she consumed earlier in the evening. Shikamaru could have sworn she didn't drink so much the last time someone broke up with her, but he was hardly one to talk, what with said wine bottle nearly empty by now.

"Okay, so what've you got, Shikamaru?" mumbled Ino, looking tired and disheveled in her oversized sweats as she tumbled beside him. "Make it quick, 'cause we've got to set up the dinner and stuff."

Shikamaru didn't think she was in any state to accomplish anything on her crazy to-do list, but he handed her the CDs all the same. "Look these over. I don't know what you wanted, but these sounded slow enough."

Tucking her legs beneath her, Ino gratefully accepted the albums and shuffled through them, poring over the song lists intently like it _mattered_. Maybe to her it did, but Shikamaru was pretty sure Choji wouldn't care for the music as long as his date was seated in front of him.

But he didn't dare verbalize as much, especially when an expression of pure joy was presently blossoming on Ino's face.

"Oh, these are great," she breathed, sounding both gleeful and surprised. "I didn't know you had excellent taste."

Shikamaru reckoned he ought to feel slighted for her disbelief, but it was hard to feel that way when Ino was beaming at him. "Eh, not really."

"Oh, _please_ , don't be so modest. You're doing a lot better than I am." Ino turned a baleful gaze at the mound of broken paper hearts on the floor. "Me? I'm such a failure."

"Ah, sheesh, don't say that," answered Shikamaru hastily, keen on heading off another crying session more than anything. He didn't think his sleep-deprived and slightly drunk brain could handle any more troublesomeness at the current hour. "You're alright. Look, we'll just go to the store in the morning and buy something else."

She glanced back at him, her bottom lip protruding slightly. "You really think so?" she asked, with a slight sniff. "Because that's a big pile of nothing right there, Shikamaru."

He shrugged. "You tried your best."

Ino raised an eyebrow, wholly unconvinced by his platitude, and returned to her task. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. The important thing is, everything goes according to plan." She looked up from her CDs. "You still have my list?"

"Right here." He retrieved the slightly crumpled paper from his pocket and flattened it against the liquor table. Shikamaru tried to suppress a groan as he skimmed over Ino's to-do list again. He didn't have the faintest idea how they were supposed to pull off her spur-of-the-moment plan, especially when it was supposed to be implemented in fourteen hours.

Not to mention, they were both teetering on the drunk end of the scale and running on very little sleep. Plus, Ino was obviously still torn up about her failed relationship. All signs pointed to close-to-impossible, and he wished his companion would just realize that already.

"What time does Choji arrive again?"

Shikamaru sagged against the cushions tiredly, knowing full well he didn't have the heart to tell her no. "Five-thirty, according to his timetable," he replied as he ran a hand over his face.

"And Karui?"

"A little later. I'm not sure."

"Okay." Ino leaned forward and scrunched up her face as she read her list. "So, we can tick off music, and maybe decorations in the morning. I'll get the roses ready, and you'll take care of the restaurant?"

"…Sure." Shikamaru was fairly certain most of the restaurants in the village would've already been fully booked by now, but he supposed he could call in a few favors. As much as he hated being indebted to other people, throwing another disappointing curveball at Ino would be even more troublesome in the long run. "I'll… do _that_."

"It has to be a rooftop reservation, Shikamaru," continued Ino, quite oblivious to his distress. "Or it won't work. Remember: this is a special day for Choji, and we have to help him. He's our friend and teammate. It's our _duty_ to do so."

Shikamaru couldn't recall his best friend asking for assistance for this one small matter, nor did he remember ever agreeing to anything of the sort. But he was way past the point of no return now, leaving nothing else for him to do but reach for the bottle and drink the rest of it.

"That just leaves the balloons, the vintage wine, the string quartet, the fireworks display… And we're all set!" Ino turned to him with a smile, illuminating in spite of her recent drawbacks. "I'm so excited! Aren't you?"

Exhaling heavily, Shikamaru managed a nod and a half-smirk in return.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Oh my god! I was supposed to post this daaaays before the 14_ _th_ _, and my stupid brain boofed it (in the Jake Peralta sense of the word). Anyway, here it is: an attempt at a multi-chapter fic (fingers crossed). Not sure if I can update tomorrow (ugh, work is_ such _a distraction), but I will try my best. In the meantime, if any of you guys are playing Ultimate Ninja Blazing on mobile, my friend code is 554,344,484,214. Happy days!_


	2. Eleven Hours

_6:54 a.m._

Shikamaru stared blearily at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Even in his mind-fogged state, he didn't miss the Post-it note Ino left for him – bright yellow and obnoxiously stuck on his forehead as it was.

Sighing, he peeled it off and fixed it to the mirror. Written in her immaculate handwriting, the note read: "Don't forget restaurant reservation! Out to buy stuff and arrange roses. Meet you back here at 10 for updates? Thanks!"

He had found similar notes elsewhere – on the refrigerator ("Buy _actual_ groceries!"), on his desk ("Get rid of water stains!"), on the lone house plant ("Help! I'm dying!"), on the door to his room ("Needs new paint job – color doesn't match the wall."), on his sheets ("What's the thread count on these things?"), and on the bathroom wall ("Why do you not have hot water?"). Pretentious, sardonic, bordering on cruel, and definitely things Ino would say – to his face, if he had been awake to witness her departure.

He should be annoyed, but Shikamaru was just feeling strangely relieved that she was no longer moping around. Prissy, smart-mouthed observations were much better than crying fits, so that, at least, was going well for him.

The rest of his day? Not so much.

Shikamaru frowned at the note as he brushed his teeth. He had an idea where he should go and who he should talk to, but the knowledge wasn't inspiring confidence in him. Hell, this whole thing still didn't sound like a good idea, in spite of the alcohol he downed earlier to convince himself into thinking that it was.

Well, one day, he was going to grow a backbone and actually tell the girl off to stop himself from getting into these troublesome situations. But, for now, he hoped a cold shower would help alleviate his growing headache.

* * *

 _7:31 a.m._

This morning's destination was twenty meters away, a two-storey building situated in the middle of Konoha's bustling downtown district. Like most of the establishments lining the wide boulevard, the exterior of the restaurant was strung up with red and pink hearts, ribbons, flowers, and trite, stenciled declarations of love and affection. A quick peek inside via the window display confirmed that the interior looked about the same.

Shikamaru lingered in the shadow of the nearby alley, trying to decide what the best way was to go about it. He had come to know the owner after addressing a complaint lodged by the old man at the Hokage's Office, but that didn't make the upcoming encounter easy. If anything, he was beginning to dread it – not so much the conversation itself, but the idea that he had to have this conversation at all.

Unfortunately for him, Mr. Miyamoto spotted him first.

"Ah, Shikamaru-kun," the old man greeted, tottering over to him, signature gap-toothed smile in place. "I knew it was you! Fine morning, isn't it?"

Shikamaru waved at him hesitantly. "Yeah, good morning, as well."

"Saw you while I was rearranging those," explained Mr. Miyamoto, gesturing at the wax, nearly life-like food displays on the window. "The wife prepared a couple of special dishes for tonight and wanted to advertise them now. Told her it was too early, but she wouldn't listen." The old man gave him a knowing grin. "Women, eh?"

Shikamaru nodded extra slowly. Women, indeed.

"So, what brings you here? Looking for a last-minute date night idea?"

Something faintly maniacal glimmered in Mr. Miyamoto's rheumy eyes as he guessed at his intentions, and if Shikamaru had been in a better mood, he would have humored the old man and countered with a sarcastic quip. Something along the lines of minding his own damn business. Or something less rude.

But as things stood, and with Ino's bright yellow missive swimming in his consciousness, Shikamaru had little to no choice but to play along. With a light shrug and a half-smirk, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Yeah, well, you got me."

If Mr. Miyamoto noticed the attitudinal change, he didn't show it. Instead, the restaurant owner merely flashed him another wide grin and began ushering him inside.

"Ah, well, we're almost fully booked at the moment, as you can expect at this time of year, but no worries. I'm sure we can fit you in somewhere. After that stunt you pulled with the council…" Mr. Miyamoto let out a low whistle that was more breath than sound. "Well, let's just say my wife and I will always be grateful for what you did."

Shikamaru didn't think a proposal to install tight-fitting lids on outdoor restaurant trash receptacles was that big of a deal – it was just common sense – but if it was going to help him book a table, he was willing to exaggerate the hell out of it too.

"I'm glad I could be of help. By the way, how's your business been since then?" he asked, in as nonchalant a manner as he could. "I've been hearing good things about your restaurant."

"Oh, simply wonderful," exclaimed Mr. Miyamoto excitedly. "We've enjoyed a steady stream of clients, all thanks to you. Some of them are even regulars now! But more importantly, no more complaints about the smell from the alley. Ambiance is really important in any restaurant, you know? And your intervention on our behalf really helped improve that aspect of our business."

"I see." Shikamaru made a show of glancing around. "You spruced up the place too, huh?"

In truth, he saw nothing different. Hardly anything changed in this part of Konoha, but he supposed that was the charm of the old district. Still, the way Mr. Miyamoto's eyes lit up told him that he had struck a chord, and a major one at that.

"Yes, yes! I'm glad you noticed! We had them install new floorboards over there." The old man pointed at the back of the large hall. "And the wife hung some new paintings at the entryway. Makes all the difference, doesn't it?"

"Yes, of course," Shikamaru answered measuredly. "Looks much better. More welcoming, I think. Adds more to the, ah, ambiance."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it." Still grinning, Mr. Miyamoto handed him the restaurant's seat plan. "Now, about your request, we have a couple of tables upstairs that haven't been taken yet. Go on and choose whichever you want."

Shikamaru pretended to seriously scan the arrangement while the old man waited on him expectantly. He was starting to feel guilty at the fact that he was pulling a fast one on the restaurant owner, but he had to remind himself that Ino wouldn't hesitate to pull a fast punch on him if he dared to come back empty-handed.

Still on this train of thought, Shikamaru carefully handed the laminated chart back. "This looks great, but my friend would actually prefer a table on the roof deck." He rubbed the back of his neck in mock embarrassment. "Ah, do you think that would be possible?"

"Ah, an evening under the stars," the old man replied wistfully. "A real romantic treat for your _friend_ , eh?" Chuckling amusedly, he flipped a worn notebook open and ran his finger down the page. "Well, we usually reserve the deck for private functions, but it looks like you're in luck." Mr. Miyamoto glanced up at him with another goofy grin. "No one's booked for tonight, so it's all yours."

Shikamaru ignored the thick implications in the man's tone, and just made to pull out his wallet. "Great, so, how much is it going to be..?"

As he expected, the restaurant owner shook his head and calmly pushed back the proffered wad of cash. "What are you talking about, Shikamaru-kun? No way, no way! My wife will be furious if I take your money! Just get your _friend_ a great gift, and we'll call it quits – how about that?"

"Oh, but I can't possibly—"

"Nonsense! This is on the house!" And with an air of finality, Mr. Miyamoto scrawled his name on the schedule for that evening, adding a notation at the end of the line that it was all done and paid for. "Now all you have to do is show up on time!"

Shikamaru wasn't even going to try to argue that one further. With a (hopefully) sheepish smile, he bowed low at the restaurant owner. "Thank you, Miyamoto-san. That's very kind of you. I owe you one."

"Ah, please, you don't have to thank me. It's the least we can do for everything you've done for us." The old man smiled toothily at him again. "But I expect to meet this friend of yours before the evening comes to an end, eh? Must be a special one, if you're going through all this trouble."

Shikamaru just grinned uncomfortably in response.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Well, this took_ way _too long to write. I managed to finish it, though (finally)! I'm not as crazy about it as I was with the previous chapter, but hopefully the next installments go better. Please let me know what you think!_


	3. Eight Hours

_10:00 a.m._

When Shikamaru returned to his apartment at ten o'clock sharp, he found Ino already there – sprawled on his living room floor and stringing cut-out hearts on silver wire. She hadn't yet cleaned up her previous mess at all – and, for all intents and purposes, she was only adding more to it – but it was difficult to call her out on that when there were other things he could nag at her about.

Like the thick, heady floral scent permeating the air and making him dizzy.

Or the fact that his couch was buried in a knee-deep layer of red and white roses.

Or the thirty or so balloons squeaking and bumping on his ceiling.

Or the crate of fireworks sitting in the corner.

Shikamaru could have chosen anything – literally anything at all – and yelled at her about it. He had the right to do so: it was _his_ apartment she was messing up, after all. But when Ino turned to him with a wide, genuine smile of pure elation, and none of the usual annoyance she showered him with, the words in his throat (along with a part of his damned soul) died, and were promptly replaced by a jumbled mix of morning greetings and how-are-you's.

Ino didn't seem to have noticed his blunder, which was just as well. The whole thing was terribly lame, and a very, very bad decision on his part, but what else could he have done? She didn't fight fair.

With a resigned, barely audible sigh, Shikamaru trudged into his living room, braving the smell and the danger of explosives, and slouched next to her.

"We're good on the restaurant," he informed her, after a clearing of the throat. "Mr. Miyamoto's giving us the roof deck for free."

"Great job, Shikamaru!" she cheered, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

As if fooling an old man into an unfair deal was a remotely good thing. With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Shikamaru sloped off to the adjoining kitchen.

"So, that just leaves a few more details to iron out, and we're good to go?"

"Yeah, I guess." He swiped the least stained mug from the sink, sniffed it, and shrugged. Good enough, he supposed. "Coffee?"

"No, I'm fine. But thanks for asking."

With only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow, Shikamaru removed the Post-it note stuck on the coffee maker ("Have you never heard of sugar before?") and started a fresh pot. Soon, the bubbling smell of caffeine filled the small space, not quite overpowering the fragrance of her flowers, but it was something, at least. The bitter, faintly nutty scent mid-morning had never been more welcome, in light of Ino dumping things in his apartment.

Shikamaru leaned against the counter, his cheek resting on his open palm, and frowned at the back of Ino's head. His apartment went from Spartan, bachelor pad to warehouse at the docks in a span of three hours. It wasn't just her date night decorations either: he could see the contents of her overnight bag littered on his bed through the sliver of the open door. The bowl of fruit on his left was also indicative of something, and so were the various tubes and bottles of cosmetics on his desk.

Evidently, she was making herself at home – not without his consent, but it was kind of worrying.

A loud _ping_ rang inside the small apartment, interrupting his thoughts and signaling the end of the brewing process. Stretching languidly, Shikamaru reached over and poured himself his third cup of the day.

"So, what now?" he asked, then grimaced a second later. The coffee truly did taste awful. Maybe there was a point to her note after all – not that he would admit that out loud.

"I was thinking we could finish these up before noon, so we could take them to the restaurant after lunch," answered Ino, snipping slowly at a series of pink hearts. "Then, we can head to the theater district to find a bunch of decent musicians for later. After that, I'll wrangle a bottle of wine from dad's cellar, while you leave a message at the gate for our two lovebirds. Sounds good?"

The way Ino was grinning at him was giving him a funny feeling – quite different from the feeling that he just might hurl after hearing her use the word "lovebirds" so casually – but he shrugged it off, and focused instead on the glaring gap in her plans.

"What about the fireworks, then?"

Shikamaru thumbed at the box in the corner. He couldn't help but narrow his gaze at the loosely wrapped, very flammable devices sitting just below the flimsy curtains. Still, they were necessary to Ino's crazy scheme, so maybe he could cool it. For now.

He would tell her off later. Swear.

"Shouldn't that require a bit of setup, too? You have to position them far enough away to avoid starting fires, but close enough so that Choji and Karui could see them from the restaurant."

"Aww, aren't you just eager about all of this?" Ino gushed, shaking her head with a laugh. "And here I thought you didn't care!"

"Tch." Shikamaru scoffed. "Please."

She smirked at him knowingly. "Well, don't worry your genius head about it, because I found someone who could help us out."

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

Aside from Sakura, the only people Ino trusted with her brand of crazy were him and Choji, and, with their teammate being obviously out of the question, it left Shikamaru wondering just who she would entrust with such a role.

Not that he _cared_ or anything.

"Someone reliable," she replied, with a dismissive shrug. "You'll know soon enough, but in the meantime…" Ino patted the barely visible floorboards next to her. "Come sit with me. I need help with these things."

And by these things, she meant the fourteen garlands she was planning to hang over the roof deck. Shikamaru knew that, which was why he lingered behind the counter, sipping at his coffee at his own pace. Everyone who was acquainted with him was aware that he detested paperwork of all kinds, and this surely counted as one.

In fact, he could think of a hundred other things that would be more pleasant than doing Ino's little art project – emptying Mr. Miyamoto's trash bins included – but that was the price one paid for being a push-over to a bossy blonde.

So, with a pained grimace, Shikamaru drained his cup and replaced it on the sink, before padding over to her side reluctantly (and somewhat huffily).

Ino chose not to notice his surliness as she handed over a pair of scissors, along with a sheaf of red papers. "Just cut out a bunch of hearts from these, and I'll take care of the rest," she said, with a cheeky sort of smile. "And, listen, I know you don't want to do this, but we all have to make little sacrifices for our friends every now and then."

Ah, the power of friendship.

Shikamaru just gave a world-weary sigh at this familiar, not-very-endearing display. Maybe this was just going to be their dynamic from now on.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Oh, that's a good boy," she crooned, ruffling his hair teasingly.

Shikamaru scooted away from her wandering hands and settled for half-leaning against his coffee table, which was also teeming with roses. Thank Kami he didn't have a pollen allergy, because he'd have suffocated by now.

"We need about a hundred more hearts," Ino told him, as she inspected a finished garland. "That place needs to exude passion and romance, you know, and there's nothing more effective in achieving that than with a beautiful, artistic design!"

He would beg to differ – couldn't they just light candles instead of bothering with all this paper? – but he chose not to air his views, as he furtively glanced at Ino in her radiance, holding up the string of hearts above her head and chatting gaily about the advantages of handmade decorations.

Shikamaru smirked. Maybe there was something good about this, after all.

* * *

 _11:57 a.m._

There was nothing good about this, _at all_.

His legs were killing him, his right hand was cramped, and Ino was, as usual, oblivious to his troublesome predicament, being more concerned with praising her handiwork than she was with everything else.

"—didn't think it would turn out this pretty, to be honest. I mean, look at how delicate everything is! And the way the silver catches the light? Simply magical! It will look much better with candles and lanterns, of course; fluorescent lighting just won't cut it for me. Do you think you could arrange that? Oh, but you have to! It needs to be elegant and sweet, you know – none of that silly yellow lighting for Choji and Karui, oh, no! This needs to be special! This is a special night for both of them! It has to be grand and outstanding and—"

Shikamaru tuned her out, rolling his eyes despairingly. He once thought listening to her blab about Sasuke and Sai was a brain-numbing activity, but this was far, far worse: Ino had been going on and on about garlands and strings and lights for the past ten minutes, and, with her head nestled comfortably on his lap, he had absolutely no choice in the matter but to listen to her endless – if overjoyed – tirade.

"—imagine how this will all look on the roof deck? With all of this strung up, the balloons, the rose petals, the scented candles, the romantic dinner, the fireworks, the moon? It will all be so elegant and quaint and lovely! Oh, I can't wait to see their faces when they arrive! I think Choji would be very happy – don't you think so? And Karui will be pleased, I think. Like, I'm not sure if they have this in Kumogakure, but it's a pretty sweet deal, eh? It has literally everything, so—"

Only Kami knew how long it would take her to run out of synonyms for "beautiful" and "romantic," and the heavens hadn't exactly been smiling down on him since three in the morning. He groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"—actually think I'll be a little envious of Karui later, you know. She is such a lucky girl, even if she doesn't realize it yet. She has all of this – the garlands, lights, balloons, bouquets of roses, food, wine, and, most importantly, the man that she is going to marry, sitting across from her, holding her hand, and telling her that he… loves her… so… freaking… _much_ … Oh. _God_."

Shikamaru's head snapped up at the sudden change in Ino's tone, and looked down to find her sobbing wretchedly on his pants leg. He clicked his tongue, in a semi-annoyed, semi-sorry-for-himself manner, and gathered the girl up in his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be fine," he muttered, in a feeble attempt to get her to stop crying. "Look, there's only six hours left to do everything else; we don't… have time for your breakdown, to be honest. Can't you just… pull yourself together?"

He frowned. That didn't sound right, or comforting in any way. Hell, it was only causing her to wail even more. Hesitantly, he patted her shoulder.

"Uh, there, there? Ino?"

It took quite a while before he felt her thump against his chest - half-heartedly, but that was all he needed.

"Yeah, well, sorry. I'm no good at this, as you know." He ran his fingers tentatively through her hair, in that soothing way he'd seen her do before. "But you can't give up just because—"

"Karui's a lucky bitch?" Ino supplied, peeking up at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Because Choji's fat ass has a girlfriend?"

Shikamaru snorted. "Troublesome… But, yeah, okay, whatever makes you feel better." Slowly, he reached for the box of tissues beneath the table – saved for such emergencies – and handed it to her. "And, just in case you forgot, we're doing this _for Choji_ , who is our _friend_."

She blew her nose, and let out a watery chuckle. "But that's my line!"

"Oh, is it?" He leaned back against his rose-strewn table comfortably. "I didn't notice."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I don't know how coffee makers work, obviously. I will try to squeeze in another update before Friday, if my workload (and general motivation) permits. Don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter!_


	4. Five Hours

_12:43 p.m_

Ino was, if anything, a great pretender: hardly a trace of the previous half hour's impromptu crying session showed on her face, which shone alabaster-like in the heat of the midday sun.

Before they left his apartment, she had managed to re-apply her make-up, do up her hair, and smooth out her clothes. The balloons tied on her wrist, which bobbed with every one of her lilting steps, helped cement the image of the smiling, golden girl, untouched by the problems of the world.

But Shikamaru knew better.

For all the twenty-something years he'd known her, she hadn't been able to fool him completely. Sure, there were times when he'd rather take a nap than listen to her bickering, but he understood that the girl was hiding something beneath all the yelling and demanding. That Ino was more sensitive than she let on.

It stood to reason, then, that the emotional onslaught of being broken up with a few days before, plus the realization that someone else would be enjoying a night she'd dreamed of for a long time (and a very long time it was – ever since they were kids, practically) and arranging it all to boot, must be a doing a number on her system.

Which was why Shikamaru was making the effort of glancing at her every now and then, checking to see any minute changes in her features that told of imminent tears – even if it was rather tiresome, what with the overflowing box of decorations in his hands.

Still, it was a sort-of-important task, considering how his somewhat emotionally unstable companion was the captain of this whole operation and he was but a just-got-dragged-into-this lackey.

And maybe it was the relatively light lunch, the third cup of coffee, the lack of sleep, or a confluence of all of these factors, but he wasn't finding it as troublesome as he thought it would be. As punishing as it was to struggle to keep pace with both her incessant chatter and mildly harried steps, making sure Ino was fine was proving to be an easy enough task to do.

(It might even be described as pleasant, but not _too_ pleasant as to distract from the troublesome nature of the woman walking beside him.)

Perhaps it was the long-standing bond between them and their families that made it so. They _have_ known each other for a long time (longer than he would have liked, most days), and so he was in a better position than most to gauge her trove of emotions. Which was not to say that he was successful in interpreting them most of the time, but there.

Or perhaps it was simply the familiarity of the action. Nearly a decade ago, Shikamaru had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on Ino whenever she used her family's technique, and he still did that, to some extent, when they were out on missions together (which was rarely, if ever). It was often a burden – one could hardly fight properly while guarding a spirit-less body (more so when said body belonged to a vain woman) – but it was his burden to carry, as their late sensei strongly pointed out one too many times.

Whatever the case, the task was easy enough to accomplish, and with Ino's attention everywhere else but him, Shikamaru didn't have to make up an elaborate excuse for why he was looking at her more than he'd done in the past year.

Not that there was much occasion to see her in the past year, given the peripatetic nature of his diplomat duties and her own busy schedule...

Nevertheless, they arrived at Mr. Miyamoto's doorstep without incident, and when the shoji screens parted as soon as their shadows darkened the entryway, Shikamaru wasn't at all surprised. He was willing to bet the old man had been waiting steadfastly just behind the door for their arrival.

Shikamaru inclined his head in greeting, and introduced a rather chipper Ino to Mr. Miyamoto, who smiled at her warmly, before turning a teasing a grin back at him, and Shikamaru, in turn, heaved an exasperated sigh.

Ino, fortunately, was oblivious to this exchange, and merely thrust out her hand in an enthusiastic greeting. "It's _very_ nice to finally meet you, Miyamoto-san," she gushed. "Shikamaru told me all about your restaurant, and I must say, you do have quite a lovely place here. I love it!"

The old man was understandably tickled by her words, and Shikamaru watched with some amount of amusement as Ino heaped compliment after compliment on the hapless restaurant owner. There was still a measure of guilt to the whole enterprise – Kami knew Choji could _eat_ – but there was something decidedly charming about the way she disarmed any other doubts Mr. Miyamoto may have had about the arrangement.

It, of course, was only entertaining because he wasn't on the receiving end of Ino's cajoling, but Shikamaru was well aware how potent her words and actions were. Hell, his whole involvement in this scheme was a glaring example of that.

Nothing to it now, though. He was just going to have to see it 'til the (bittersweet?) end.

Only a few lights inside the main hall were lit, but it was enough to see the outlines of the cut-outs and ribbons stuck on the walls, which he'd spied earlier in the day. Shikamaru raised a skeptical eyebrow: was it really appetizing to be surrounded by garish red and pink décor during a supposedly intimate night?

But, well, he was hardly one to talk, being the assigned carrier of the results of Ino's crafting project.

Sighing just a little dejectedly, Shikamaru followed after the still-chatting Mr. Miyamoto and Ino – something about which era the building was modeled after – to the roof deck.

The stairs were, thankfully, wide enough to accommodate the balloons on her wrist. The only downside to this was that Shikamaru had to swat at the things more than once, and that was a tad difficult to do with the box.

The climb itself, though, was uneventful, unless one counted the brief pause Ino took on the second floor landing, her eyes lingering on the large, papier-mache heart hanging over the center of the room. It only took a second, but Shikamaru didn't miss the appraising way she eyed the thing. He was 101% certain that, if she wasn't currently in the business of buttering up Mr. Miyamoto, she would have said something about it.

Something rude, too, judging by the way her lips twitched unflatteringly.

But the urge was very quickly restrained, and she jogged up the stairs as if nothing had happened. Shikamaru merely shook his head at this pretentious display, and didn't bother reigning in a smirk.

* * *

 _2:21 p.m._

This scene, Shikamaru reckoned, was rather familiar.

The only differences were that they were (a) sitting on actual chairs and not his paper-strewn floor, and (b) Ino wasn't lying halfway on top of him. Her head was, however, resting on his left shoulder, but that was a large enough improvement: Ino was of a smaller stature, but only deceptively so. He wouldn't dare say that out loud, of course. That earned one a punch to the jaw, _at the very least_.

"I think we did great here," Ino mused, still blinking fascinatedly at the silvery web of hearts strung up above them. "Don't you think so, Shikamaru?"

His gaze drifted upwards for a beat. "Sure." Then, on impulse, he added, "It _is_ a lot better than whatever's hanging on the second floor."

But instead of laughing as he'd expected her to, Ino straightened up and gave him a reproachful look. "Shikamaru!" she chided, her eyebrows creasing in that familiar way. "Miyamoto-san is your friend! You shouldn't say that! It's rude and hurtful! Take it back right now!"

She seemed to be deciding whether to hit him for it or not, so Shikamaru took the momentary opportunity and reached out to flick her forehead. "Yeah, _right_." He wondered if it would be overkill to laugh at the wounded look on her face. "Ino, don't be the hypocrite now; I know you were dying to say something there."

Shikamaru leaned back and, throwing an arm over the back of his chair, watched as an expression of pure indignation crossed her face.

"What?! Excuse me! I was not!" retorted Ino hotly. "I thought it was…" She glared at him, wide-eyed, as she appeared to search for a word.

Shikamaru just waited.

"Unique!" she finally blurted out, a somewhat triumphant gleam in her eyes as she pointed bossily at him. "I thought that was a _unique_ and _bold_ choice for restaurant décor! You've clearly never seen anything like that before," she added, sniffing somewhat haughtily. "Uncultured as you are."

He snorted. "Yeah, I never have, because no one in their right mind would—Ow!" Scowling, he rubbed at the stinging spot on his shoulder where Ino had hit him. "What? You know that it's true."

"Doesn't mean it's not rude!"

"But you concede that it _is_ true?"

Ino paused, and bit her lip uncertainly. "I did not say that."

"I thought it was implied," answered Shikamaru, shrugging a little. "Wasn't it?"

"No, of course not! You're putting words in my mouth!" She huffed and crossed her arms defensively. "And I don't know about you, but I am _not_ going to pay for Choji's dinner. Like, I love the guy and all, but _no_. So if you want your finances stay on the green, I suggest you shut your mouth and keep your rude comments to yourself."

With that, Ino, sporting a childish pout, stood and stomped off to the stairwell. Shikamaru barely glanced up at her; she would get over it soon enough. Yawning widely, he folded his arms over the table, intending to take a short nap, just until her mini-tantrum blew over.

But his head had hardly touched his forearm when Ino returned, nearly tipping over him as she fell on her chair with a boisterous laugh.

"It really _is_ ugly, isn't it?" she gasped, wiping happy tears from her eyes. "I mean, papier-mache? Really?! Who even does that?"

* * *

 _2:43 p.m._

It took Ino upwards of ten minutes to gather herself together. When she finally regained enough restraint to not break into giggles at the sight of the décor, Shikamaru marched her back downstairs, bid the owners a hurried farewell, and left the restaurant.

But even out on the street, she could hardly contain herself, chuckling as they passed rows and rows of establishments, each of them, of course, plastered with similar designs.

Shikamaru wondered if he ought to be grateful – at least she wasn't on the verge of crying (sad) tears anymore? Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he sighed, and ambled after her.

They had been walking for quite some time when he realized that they weren't heading to the theater district at all; they were, in fact, going the other way. Had Ino's giggling fit somehow skewed her sense of direction so thoroughly?

"Hey, the theater district's that way," he said, tapping her once on the shoulder. "I thought you said we were going there after the restaurant?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. We're just going on a little detour." Ino flashed him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. "No worries! We still have plenty of time."

A little over three hours could hardly be defined as such, but Shikamaru didn't comment. They had managed to fulfill most of the tasks on her list so far; the least he could do was trust her on this. This was her plan, after all.

But when the buildings started to thin out and the dry, hard ground characteristic of the Academy's training grounds came into view, Shikamaru became confused. Unless Ino had an errand separate from the one they were on, nothing in this part of Konoha warranted a visit from either of them.

"We're going to meet up with our fireworks guy," Ino chimed in, answering the question in his thoughts. "Just a short conversation. Five minutes, tops. He said he'd be here around this time, so…"

She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the surrounding fields. Whoever this person was would be easy enough to find. Though the nature of their occupation was dangerous and boasted a rather poor life expectancy, that didn't stop a large percentage of shinobi from participating in the dating-slash-marrying game. Shikamaru didn't have the actual numbers, but he did hear rumors every now and then, and so there was a great chance that training would be the last thing on most people's minds today.

Work hard, play harder, as Kiba once said.

Shikamaru didn't agree at all, especially since the statement was accompanied by a very suggestive, feral grin, but that was beside the point.

A gasp from his companion announced that she had spotted their quarry. With characteristic energy and glee, Ino grabbed his wrist and drew him away, towards the western end of the fields. He was hardly fazed, having experienced this many times beforehand, and adjusted his pace appropriately to keep up with her excited steps.

The first thing that Shikamaru registered, as they approached the clearing, was the heat – dissimilar to the paltry heat given off by the sun in the winter months, but closer to the stifling intensity of a summer bush fire. This one was contained, however, and it came to him that someone nearby was practicing Fire Release techniques.

Sure enough, a jet of flames shot up just above the tree line, taking on the form of a hazy dragon for a few seconds, before dissipating with a near-quiet rumble.

Something tingled at the back of Shikamaru's mind, like he was supposed to know who this person was. And there _was_ something strangely familiar at the strains of chakra he could detect in the air; he just couldn't pin-point what it was.

Quickly, he ran through the names of all his friends and acquaintances. Living in the Fire Country certainly complicated things, but he managed to shorten the list into a number of individuals capable of wielding the unruly element. Fire was notoriously difficult to handle, and with the amount of fireballs this particularly shinobi was spewing, it only made sense for him (or her) to possess considerable skill.

Ino nudged him, not-so playfully, in the ribs. "Hey, what are you thinking so deeply about? Come on!"

With renewed determination, she pulled, until he was walking again. His eyes, however, were still fixated on the sporadic bursts of flames in the air. His eyebrows creased. It was coming to him, but not fast enough.

They rounded a bend, and suddenly, they were face-to-face with a literal tornado of fire. Small enough not to cause destruction, but impressive nonetheless. Ino gave a delighted hum, and glanced at him expectantly, as if she was seeking approval. But for what?

Shikamaru tilted his head at her inquiringly, but she was no longer looking at him, but at the figure standing in the middle of the artificial lake. Hesitantly, he looked over, wondering why a sense of disquiet was twisting in his gut.

It took a while for the flames to disappear, but when they did, Shikamaru understood. Oh, yes, he understood _perfectly_.

* * *

 _Author's Note: OH. GOD. I went through about five rewrites for this chapter before I was satisfied enough to publish it. At one point, I had 1700+ words on the page but decided to start over from scratch. *sighs* I like this one a lot though, so all those virtually crumpled Microsoft Word pages were worth it. Thanks for reading!_


	5. Three Hours

_2:58 p.m._

Shikamaru shut his eyes before releasing a tense breath. This was possibly the most troublesome, most batshit insane idea Ino had ever thought of in her whole life, and that was saying something. And, yes, he'd had his fair share of poorly thought out decisions, but his worst didn't involve a fiery disaster, which was almost guaranteed with this latest scheme.

Honestly, though, he wasn't sure why he was even going to bother arguing the point – he was risking a broken nose, _or worse_ – but someone needed to think rationally in this situation, and Ino obviously was too far gone for that: her overly enthusiastic good-work's and you're-doing-great's told him as much.

Shikamaru furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. What the hell did she see in him anyway? He was just another punk-ass shinobi off to no good. And to go so far as to call him reliable? That was just crossing a line.

His mind resolutely (if grumpily) made up, Shikamaru opened his eyes, let out another breath, and strolled over to Ino, who was too focused on the antics of the Fire user to notice his approach. He clapped a hand to her shoulder, and she turned, startled and just a little annoyed.

"What?" she asked, snappily but without the usual venom. She was feeling good about herself, after all.

Shikamaru indicated the sparse copse of trees on his right. "I think we need to talk."

Ino gave a small, sideways glance at the other shinobi, then leveled a disinterested gaze back at him. "Well, this better be quick," she murmured, before trudging on ahead of him.

There was confidence in her gait, and Shikamaru almost felt sorry about ruining her good mood. _Almost_ , but someone had to do it.

He stepped into the small clearing just as she swiveled around, one delicate eyebrow raised in question. Shikamaru studied her face for a moment and tried to deduce what the best way was to go about this. He was going to argue against her decision – a deed which was questionable at best and deadly at worst – and though it wasn't something foreign in their dynamic, there was still a feeling of apprehension at the prospect of breaking the light-spirited mood she had built around herself in the past hour or so.

Still, it wasn't like he could chicken out _now_ , not when curiosity wasn't the only thing evident in Ino's face. No, that was only going to make it worse. Reflexively, Shikamaru shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat.

"Ino," he began, in a slow and calm manner. "I know this is your plan and all, and, so far, everything has worked out for both of us, but this is…" He straightened up slightly, and searched his brain for an acceptable, non-anger-inducing term. "Ill-advised," he finished, and promptly searched her eyes for a violent reaction.

There was none (yet), and Shikamaru took this as a sign to continue. "I honestly don't think he's the right fit for what you're planning to do. I'm not questioning his skills, but you and I both know that he has quite the, ah, history, and something like this, well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, partly at a loss for words, and partly in confusion for the lack of backlash. Not that he would find it reassuring to have Ino hit him for daring to question her, but it was decidedly odd. Shikamaru still had her attention, however, and so he plowed on. "I just don't think he'll be able to hold himself back when an opportunity like this is presented to him. The potential to create mischief is just—"

"Who do you propose then?" interrupted Ino, her hands clasped behind her back, head tilted to the left inquiringly. "I mean, you must have some idea, right?"

It was a simple enough question, but had he thought about this? Obviously not. He was bracing for a spirited fight from Ino, not this sort-of acceptance. But he was great with thinking on his feet, and he had that list of Fire users tucked in his mind somewhere; he just had to—

"Would you rather it was _Sasuke-kun_ then?" A small, evil grin was playing on Ino's lips – one of those aggravating quirks she managed to perfect in their teenage years. Tossing her hair back haughtily, she crooned, "It's just a little past three. It's not too late to pay him a visit, right?"

A nerve in his jaw jumped, and Shikamaru fought to keep a much-needed scowl from his face. "Of course not," he answered, in a barely passable drawl. "There's no way—"

"Then, who?" Moving forward, Ino thrust her face a few inches too close for comfort. Her smirk grew wider as she regarded his conflicted expression. "Who's it going to be, Shikamaru?"

She was taunting him. He was aware of this fact, but somehow his brain wasn't cooperating on composing a good comeback; half of his consciousness was, after all, fervently calculating the approximate distance between the two of them. Not that this knowledge would help him win the argument in any way, but that was the bane of a man's existence. Probably.

"I can think of a few possible candidates," Shikamaru managed to say, after a painfully long moment of silence. "For starters, the Sarutobi clan has a good roster of—"

"But Konohamaru _is_ a Sarutobi," answered Ino, a blend of confusion and amusement written in her features. "You really can't get any better than a clan heir, Shikamaru. _We_ both know that."

There was a note of gloating there, but it wasn't like he could contradict her on that point. Clans _did_ pay more attention to training their respective heirs – his experience with his family was a testament to that – but when the heir used to be a well-known troublemaker… Well.

"True, but…" Shikamaru stole a quick glance beyond the copse of trees. "How sure are you that he won't mess it up?"

To this, Ino scoffed, as if it was a question not worth asking at all. "In case you forgot, Konohamaru is Asuma-sensei's nephew," she explained loftily. "That's why he'll be very willing to help us. Don't you see it? And, besides, everyone knows blood is thicker than ramen broth, so he won't mess it up! There's just _no way_!"

Raising an eyebrow at her naivety and/or stupidity, Shikamaru was about to point out everything wrong about her reasoning when an energetic whoop filled the air. They both turned to the artificial lake – Ino with a delighted expression, and him with a slightly disappointed one – to see Konohamaru land effortlessly on the surface of the water, his wide grin glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Hey, neechan! How was that?" he shouted, bounding over to them excitedly. "Did you see what I did?"

Ino returned the gesture, a demure smile instantly lighting up her features. "Of course," she answered, in spite of not having paid attention to the boy's movements at all in the past ten minutes. "You were wonderful, Konohamaru!"

The boy preened at her words, his chest puffing up visibly, and Shikamaru had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Thanks, neechan! By the way, we're still on for tonight, yeah?"

"Yes, of course! Shikamaru and I," and here, she gripped his sleeve tightly, "were just talking about how _grateful_ we are for your help. It's simply a relief to have you take over this task for us!" Ino turned to him expectantly, a warning evident in the depths of her narrowed, blue eyes. "Isn't that right, Shikamaru?"

But Shikamaru just glared at her right back, still adamant about her choice of helper. "Oh, were we? I can't seem to remember…"

A not-at-all (as she would later claim) chakra-enhanced slap to his chest was Ino's immediate answer, her girlish giggle masking the resounding smack somewhat. "Shika! For a genius, you are _so_ damned forgetful sometimes!"

He coughed, wincing at the stinging sensation and quite certain that a bruise was forming right that second. "Ino, you—"

"Now that _that's_ settled," she yelled over his budding protest. "Let's talk logistics, shall we? It's getting kind of late, and we still have other things to do, so we might not be able to accompany you to the site. But you do know where to put the fireworks, right?"

Konohamaru nodded eagerly. "Yeah, yeah! Naruto-niichan said there was a place—"

"Naruto is going to help you?!" Shikamaru cut in disbelievingly. Could the afternoon possibly get any worse? "I really don't think that's—"

"Oh, _shush_ ," chided Ino, pressing a finger to his lips rather forcefully. "He's not finished. Let's hear what he has to say first."

"But, Ino, this is—"

"Shhh…" she hissed, rather than murmured, as she pressed down further, forcing him to take a small step back. "Just let the boy speak, Shikamaru. Okay?"

Shikamaru was sorely tempted to argue even further – his concerns were justified and, more importantly, _practical_ – but the irritated gleam in her eyes was nothing short of murderous: _try me one more time_ , they seemed to say, _and see what happens_. He could almost hear the sound of bones breaking in the eerie quiet of the training grounds.

From the periphery of his vision, he could see Konohamaru glancing worriedly between the two of them, probably already questioning his involvement in the whole matter. Shikamaru could hardly blame the kid – Ino _was_ scary when she was mad, and this forcefulness was but an inkling of that. He had himself seen, many times over, what she was truly capable of when the height of her temper was reached, and that shit was terrifying. No one wants to see that. Ever.

Swallowing hard, Shikamaru nodded slowly, though a little grudgingly, and Ino let him go, but not with another defiant stare, as if to establish, once again, just who was in charge of this whole affair. No doubt about that now, his mind commented wryly, as he shoved his hands back in his pockets with a sigh.

"Okay, great," chirped Ino, swiveling back around to face a now-jumpy Konohamaru. "What were you saying again, dear? Something about the site, wasn't it?"

Her small, comforting smile entirely failed to placate the boy as he stuttered through his whole explanation, but it, at least, convinced Shikamaru that he did not have to worry about the village burning down in the night: Konohamaru's new-found fear of Ino's wrath would trump all thoughts of mischief.

Smirking at this unintended consequence, Shikamaru turned his eyes to the sky and reveled in the delicate wisps of clouds floating by. He had a bit of time to himself, as the discussion turned to the finer points of the Sarutobi clan's Fire Release techniques, and how the manipulation of such could help with what Ino wanted done.

He was already halfway to reaching a sense of tranquility when he heard his name mentioned in conversation. Reluctantly, Shikamaru blinked himself awake, just in time to catch the tail-end of what Ino was saying.

"—over to his house. The crate is in the living room, if I remember correctly, unless Shikamaru moved it, but I don't think he did. Anyway, just go in and grab it, and leave the key in the flower pot on your— Oh, wait. He does not have a flower pot. Sheesh, can you believe it? That's so _weird_ , right? Just leave it under the doormat, I guess. Oh, and don't forget to lock the door! Shikamaru is kind of particular about that, _as if_ there were things worth stealing in his apartment, but whatever."

Her fist balled tightly, Ino pressed something on Konohamaru's open palm, which the boy promptly pocketed. Before it reached its destination, however, Shikamaru caught a glint of metal and an all-too-familiar trinket attached to a short chain.

Tentatively, he patted his left breast pocket, and found nothing. Shikamaru frowned. At this point, should he even be shocked?

Shaking his head ruefully, he strode over to Ino after Konohamaru had gone. "Was that my key?" he asked, more to confirm the fact than to berate her for anything. That was always a fruitless – and, by extension, troublesome – task.

Predictably, Ino took pride in her covert thievery with a smug grin. "Yeah! I took it from your pocket when you weren't looking."

"Excellent," he remarked, in a sarcastic tone. Idly, he wondered what else she pilfered from his person. Not his wallet, hopefully.

"Seriously, though, Shikamaru, you should pay more attention to your surroundings," Ino continued, as if he hadn't spoken at all. "There are a ton of wicked people who wouldn't think twice about taking advantage of you. Better watch out before it's too late!"

* * *

 _Author's Note: I intended to finish this chapter yesterday, but I just ended up watching the second season of_ Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt _all day. Oh well… Anyway, only two or three chapters more for this story and it's done! Reviews are, as always, appreciated._


	6. Two and a Half Hours

_3:32 p.m._

Taiko Avenue, a long strip of road located in the northwestern tip of Konoha, was home to the village's thriving performing arts scene. Named after the traditional drums used by the founding clans during the Warring States Period, the street was lined with dance halls, studios, auditoriums, theaters, schools for the arts, and other related institutions.

At night, it was a bustling, kaleidoscopic world awash with color and brilliance – with its neon-lit signs and gaudily dressed performers – but in the harsh afternoon light, it was just as non-descript as any of the village's many streets. Advertisements for the night's shows were plastered on some doorways, but, otherwise, the street was drab and lifeless and the windows curtained tight. With the bulk of its visitors due to arrive only at five past, most of the establishments were closed, with only a select few hanging 'Open' signs.

It was to one of these buildings that Ino pushed through, with Shikamaru trailing close by. Truth be told, he felt out of place in this district. He was rarely, if ever, in this part of Konoha, the appeal of the world of theater and its related arts lost on him.

It wasn't so much that he looked down on the creative types, no. It was just that the formulaic nature of majority of the plays and compositions bored him. Why spend a hundred ryo or two to watch a three-hour theatrical piece whose plot points he could easily predict? It wasn't a very good use of his time, Shikamaru reckoned, especially when those hours could have been spent doing far more stimulating activities.

Ino, on the contrary, was a frequent visitor to some of Taiko Avenue's well-known theaters. With most of the local playwrights' creations focused on tales of star-crossed lovers and doomed romantic affairs, he wasn't surprised why she adored them so.

The lobby they found themselves in was no bigger than his living room, and was furnished mostly in dated articles, with the lacquer in the wood visibly dulled in some of them. The building itself seemed to have seen better days, and yet the dozens of framed posters hanging off its walls told of the worlds and stories that once came alive in its hallowed halls, bringing a sense of distinction and sophistication to the whole place.

A girl with black, short-cropped hair manned the reception area ahead of them. She looked no older than they were – twenty or a year older, perhaps – and wore a faded leather jacket on top of a dark gray ensemble. The girl barely looked up as they entered the double doors, her attention wholly focused on the magazine lying in front of her, but Ino was unperturbed with this less than ideal welcome. Combing her hair back deftly with her fingers, she strode over to the desk with an airy, confident smile on her face.

"Hello, excuse me, my friend and I are looking to hire a couple of talents for an event we're planning," she said, leaning across the counter gracefully. "May I know what the procedure for this is, and if it's possible for us to see your listings?"

The receptionist, whose name tag read 'Chieko,' flipped the page of her magazine nonchalantly, and, without looking up, muttered, "Sorry, we're fully booked. Try again next week."

Ino blinked at the lack of geniality but didn't let it faze her. "I see, but can we talk to someone all the same? A manager, perhaps? We just want to know if—"

"No one's here yet. Try again later, at five."

"I'm sorry, but that's just too late for us," replied Ino, with an apologetic laugh. "It's kind of an urgent situation, see? We just really need to talk to someone. Isn't there a way we could—"

"Nope." Chieko visibly stifled a yawn as she scanned an article on vacationing movie stars. "Like I said, come back later."

"...But the sign on your door says you're open?"

Chieko shrugged, but made no further comment on the matter.

By this time, Shikamaru could tell that Ino's patience reserves were starting to wear thin: he could see it in the subtle tightening of her jaw, which was a familiar, early sign of terrible things to come. He really couldn't have her threatening the girl – dismissive as she was – considering what little time they had left, as well as the fact that she had access to what they needed. It seemed that he would have to pitch in, too, if he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

Tapping his companion lightly on the shoulder, Shikamaru stepped forward and, leveling a stern gaze at the receptionist, took up Ino's position against the counter.

"Hey, listen, sorry to bother you, but we really need to talk to someone from your office. Since there's no one around, can you just give us a number we could call? Like she said, we're on an urgent errand, and we can't wait that long."

With an air of barely concealed irritation, Chieko closed her magazine, her eyebrows beetling together unattractively. She splayed her hands against the table and stood up, sending the stool she was sitting on toppling to the floor. Her squared shoulders indicated her current state of mind and betrayed what she was about to do.

Shikamaru groaned internally, but readied himself all the same for the onslaught of yelling and cursing. He didn't want to have it come to this – he had stepped in to prevent this kind of thing from happening, for Kami's sake – but he would just have to toughen it out.

Beside him, he felt Ino doing the same, albeit hers was contrary to what he was doing: instead of remaining calm, she was balling her fists, her muscles coiled and ready for a probable fight. Without looking, he could sense her gritting her teeth in frantic anticipation.

Well, now. If he ended up having to drag Ino away from this hapless receptionist to prevent a prolonged catfight, wouldn't that just be _swell_? And if he sustained injuries doing so, that would be such _a grand time_ for him, wouldn't it?

How troublesome.

He sighed, thrust his hands back in his pockets, and waited for the metaphorical axe to fall.

Except it didn't.

Shikamaru wrinkled his forehead in confusion. Wasn't Chieko the receptionist just on the verge of blowing up on him and Ino? Why stop so suddenly? He gave a quick, sideways glance at his companion, who merely shrugged at the anticlimactic silence. She didn't seem to understand what had happened either.

As if on cue, both of them turned to the receptionist, whose face had gone quite pink in the meantime.

"You," she began shakily. "I… You're that… that guy! I-I mean, you're um… You're Nara Shikamaru, aren't you?"

In spite of his bewilderment, Shikamaru found himself nodding slowly. Sometime in the past thirty seconds, he'd apparently done something that initiated this sudden shift in mood – and what a shift it was. The girl's previous disinterest was gone, replaced by a trembling sort of energy he couldn't properly place. She was also looking straight at them, albeit with strangely downcast eyes, and fidgeting nervously, her fingers tapping an excited rhythm against the granite-topped desk.

"O-oh, it's just that…" Self-consciously, Chieko brushed back a couple of loose tendrils of dark hair from her face, before looking back at him with a shy smile. "I… You're… Um… I think you're… I've always wanted to… I mean, you're kind of an—"

"Ugh, just say what you're going to say, goddammit," Ino cut in, the ire evident in the bite of her words. "And get it over with! We don't have fucking all day."

Shikamaru lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Ino only cursed when she was well and truly at her wit's end, and a slight delay in obtaining the contact details they needed surely wasn't an occasion that called for it. Besides, hadn't the receptionist softened up to them already? That ought to make their work easier, but he wouldn't know it was so from Ino's rigid posture and dangerously narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?!" Chieko shot back, rising to her full height once more. "Did you just raise your voice at me? You should know, I could have you thrown out of here in a second!"

Ino scoffed and planted her hands on her hips haughtily. "Oh, I'd just _love_ to see you try."

Though the receptionist was several inches taller, Ino more than up for it with her ever-confident and fiery aura. Both women sized each other up with cold, calculating eyes, not letting up the glares at all. If anything, they intensified with every passing second, only further fueling the sudden rift that had opened up between them.

Shikamaru hung back uncertainly, his eyebrows creased in bemusement. He didn't understand what could possibly have turned the situation on its head. Ino was annoyed, yes, but not so thoroughly annoyed that she'd intentionally go and pick a fight with a civilian – least of all a civilian who had what they needed.

It was all rather illogical, but he was also aware that, if he didn't step in now, things would swiftly go from bad to worse, and then his day would have really gone to shit. So, taking whatever courage he had left in his hands, Shikamaru reached out and grabbed Ino by the arm, turning her slowly towards him.

"Ino, we need to—"

He'd barely gotten the words out of his mouth when he felt her hand settle on the back of his neck and pull him to her level. A far too excited part of his brain noted on how close her face was just then, and so Shikamaru fought to keep his composure from slipping out of his grasp. Ino's proximity was muddling his thoughts and stoking a rapidly smoldering heat in his stomach, and while it wasn't a completely unwelcome feeling, he'd be damned if he knew why.

…Ah, fuck it. Of course he knew why. He wasn't a genius for nothing.

With only the slightest hint of hesitation, Ino tugged him closer and began to kiss him – one of those gentle, languorous kisses that should exist solely in the final acts of her fairy tales and absurd romantic stories, but that she was, for some reason or another, sharing with him now.

But it was all wrong, because they weren't anything, really, and Shikamaru would have told anyone that in a heartbeat, and yet, with the way she was kissing him, Ino would have him believe otherwise.

And just as suddenly, it was over.

Shikamaru blinked his eyes open dazedly. Ino was nowhere near as close as she was a few seconds ago, and this realization brought a surprising pang of dismay coursing through him. He would have liked it if she lingered a little bit longer, just so he could fully convince himself that he wasn't day-dreaming the whole thing.

Or maybe just so he could kiss her again – he honestly didn't know.

"I'll... wait outside," Ino finally announced, after a long moment of silence. She didn't look at him as she passed, but Shikamaru didn't miss the tinge of bright pink coloring her cheeks. He was fairly certain he wasn't looking any better either, or as composed as before: his heart was still beating a heavy staccato against his ribs.

"So... That's how it is."

The softly spoken words drew him out of his reverie. Shikamaru suddenly rememberd the existence of Chieko the receptionist, and, tearing his gaze away from the swinging double doors, he swiveled around to face her.

Chieko's lips were set in a thin, hard line as she regarded him coolly. "You could have just told me, you know," she said, and began to rummage in the top drawer of her desk. "Then I wouldn't have made such a fool of myself."

A few minutes of frustrated searching followed, and Shikamaru just stood there, awkwardly so, waiting for her to finish. When at last she found what she was looking for, she placed it on the counter and flicked it towards him.

"There, that's the man you're looking for," Chieko muttered crossly, before returning to her magazine. "I'll tell him to expect your call. Take it, and leave."

Shikamaru slid the card to his palm and studied it. Tanaka Hideaki was the name of the company's director, and his personal number was written in fine print just below his title. Pocketing it quickly, Shikamaru mumbled his thanks to Chieko, who paid him no mind, and left the building.

* * *

 _Author's Note: An early update this time, thank the inspiration gods... Honestly, though, I didn't know where this chapter was going - it just was. Anyway, I still haven't made up my mind if I want eight or nine chapters for this story, but hopefully I'll know by the next update. Thank you for reading thus far, and your reviews are always appreciated!_


	7. Two Hours

_3:52 p.m._

Thinking about Ino was giving him a hell of a headache.

And, no, it wasn't the regular ol' you-are-so-troublesome crap that flooded his brain every other week; it was more of a you-just-undid-years-of-neutral-friendship-and-camaraderie-what-now sort of thing.

Because Shikamaru, for all his two hundred and what-not I.Q. points and strategic acclaim, couldn't figure out what to tell Ino or if he ought to say anything at all. It was rather confusing, because he'd never, ever, _ever_ thought about how much he wanted to kiss her until that moment, and now he was torn between wishing the urge to go away and wanting it to stay and devour him for the rest of his natural life.

He groaned inwardly. She was so troublesome, doing this to him.

It was not far off from her personality to do things just to get a rise out of him, but the implicit trust Ino put in him, the heady smiles, the small quirks and charms, this insane plan of hers, and that absurdly romantic kiss were all blending together to cause a more-than-comfortable sensation to spread throughout his system. It was different and strange, but familiar all at the same time.

…Kami, he must be a little touched in the head.

Seeing no way out of it, Shikamaru huffed and, squaring his shoulders, trudged out of the theater's shadow and towards a waiting Ino.

He hadn't decided what to do yet – there were too many unknown variables to come up with a sound plan – but the way the hazy afternoon sun streamed down her long hair and dyed it golden was crazy attractive. Faintly, he wondered whether it had always been this way, or if his imagination was just taking some grandiose liberties with his reality.

Ino glanced up at the quiet shuffle of his approaching footsteps, her blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of relief and shyness. She pushed away from the opposite building's wall – a movement he found to be supremely graceful – and came up to meet him halfway, in the middle of the street, her hands clasped behind her back in a far-too-adorable manner.

A bashful look came over her features as she looked up at him, the small smile on her lips teasing and just as inscrutable as the rest of her. It bemused Shikamaru how magnified her simplest actions were to his still buzzing brain, as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears, blushing a little as she did so.

And he _was_ aware of the clichéd turns his thoughts were taking – he might even hate himself a little for it later – but, dammit, Shikamaru was going to allow himself the luxury of the moment, because Ino had never looked lovelier, or more fascinating. She was so goddamned beautiful, just standing there – it was almost aggravating. How the hell was that even possible?

They spent a couple of beats like that, just standing and staring awkwardly at each other, in the middle of Taiko Avenue. It almost didn't matter that the chorus of indistinct voices around them were growing steadily, or that most of the establishments around them were shrugging off their blinds and locks, readying for the expected evening crowd.

Ino was the first to look away, averting her gaze to the side with a tremulous giggle and flushed cheeks. Shikamaru would feel disappointed, if his rational mind hadn't caught up with him at that moment: strait-laced in the determination that it was just hormones and speeding heart rates and all that logical bull. He could take that explanation and run with it, but would he even want to?

"Hey, Shika," she spoke, at length. "Um, I thought you'd run off on me or something, but you're here, so… I guess I was wrong. Which is, you know, a good thing – a great thing, actually, 'cause I honestly thought you'd go, and I was standing there just fretting about things and getting mad at you a little – which is unfair, I know – but then you showed up, and I was like, 'Whew, there he is. Stop panicking, Ino,' and I just… I'm kind of relieved, I guess, but also really, _really_ anxious, and I may have wanted to run away quite a bit for a while there, but…" She let out another nervous peal of laughter, one hand coming up to brush her bangs to the side self-consciously. "I guess what I'm _really_ trying to say is, I'm sorry for being presumptuous, if you, um, feel that way." Ino glanced at him briefly, before turning her gaze back on the ground. "And I hope you don't think less of me, because that would just, well… It would suck so hard, and, again, um, I'm sorry for ruining your day. Or whatever."

She didn't, but Shikamaru had no idea how to articulate that without sounding like a complete idiot. It was a rather unfortunate moment for his mind to go blank, and, for a few terribly long seconds, he just stared at her with a confused expression on his face.

"It's… not a problem," he said at last.

It was lame and pathetic – certainly nothing compared to the torrent of words she unleashed on him – but it would have to do. For now. He was sure he had a reservoir of cool-sounding statements hidden somewhere. Maybe.

Hopefully.

"Oh," murmured Ino, visibly relaxing as a pleased grin pulled at the corners of her lips. "Great! Um, good to know, I mean."

Silence took root again, as Ino fiddled absently with her thumbs and Shikamaru peered up at the sky a little despairingly. It was now clear out, the cirrus clouds of earlier having been blown off by the cold winter winds. It was rather distressing, he thought, to be confronted with the same hue as Ino's eyes.

With a sigh, he tucked his hands back in his pockets, and felt the sharp outline of a card against his finger. Huh, right. They still had that other thing.

"Ino?"

"Hm?" She turned to him expectantly, her eyebrows raised in question. "Yes?"

"Before I forget, I have this, uh, card," muttered Shikamaru, managing to retrieve the said item from his pocket with only a minimal amount of clumsiness. "It has the information you – _we_ – need. A name and a number. Chieko said she'll call ahead, so this guy will be expecting us."

"Oh," she said again, blinking a bit dazedly. "Of course."

Ino plucked the card from his fingers daintily and slid it somewhere in the billows of her dress – which he now observed, had the sort of beguiling cut that was better suited for summer rather than late winter. Shikamaru's face flushed involuntarily, and he scrambled for a way to spin this observation into a more useful reminder: "Bring a jacket later."

"So," Ino said, startling him a little as she straightened up, those too-blue eyes of hers boring into his brown ones somewhat shyly. "Um, I guess I'll see you later? At your apartment? Before five?"

Shikamaru gave the briefest of nods, the prospect of parting ways somehow repulsive to him. How funny that, just hours ago, he would have given anything to get her off his back. It was a little bit selfish, he supposed – they were working towards giving Choji a good surprise, after all – but it was rather difficult to deny that feeling of perceived loss.

Which was a very stupid notion. He would see her in an hour. Why was it suddenly such a big deal? It wasn't a big deal. Shut the hell up, annoyingly sentimental Shikamaru.

"Yeah, okay," he answered, with as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster. "I'll see you then."

"Mmhm."

Ino looked indecisive for a moment, her hands clasping and unclasping in turn. Shikamaru regarded her curiously. He was about to ask what was wrong, or if she had any other reminders, when, most abruptly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.

"And don't be late," she whispered, in that alluring and teasing fashion, before pulling back with a grin and vanishing in the crowd around them.

* * *

 _4:28 p.m._

Some twenty minutes later and Shikamaru was still perplexed. Even as the large, stone columns of Konoha's Main Gate loomed before him, all he could think about was Ino and the confounding nature of the afternoon's events. He wondered, a little hopelessly, if this was going to be how his mental faculties worked from now on.

It wasn't such a bad way to live, he supposed, but that didn't make it – or _her_ – any less troublesome. They hadn't really _talked_ , after all.

The outpost was devoid of visitors when he arrived, the assigned guards predictably lazing off their down-time with a game of cards. Shikamaru gave a terse nod, and they broke their game momentarily to wave in his direction.

"Busy day, Nara?" Kotetsu called out from where he sat cross-legged on the station floor. "You look beat."

"Just the usual," he muttered curtly, before swiping a pen and a writing pad off the unattended desk. He doubted that the guards – absorbed in their game as they were – would notice a couple of missing supplies, and so did not bother asking for permission.

Slumping tiredly onto a seat, Shikamaru ripped a page from the pad and laid it on the counter. He ignored the near-continuous reel of Ino coming in close playing in his mind, and started to scrawl her instructions down instead.

There weren't a lot of them – which was fine, he couldn't think properly, anyhow – just the basics of what they had been preparing for since that morning: a free dinner at the Miyamotos' restaurant at the old district, six-thirty in the evening. There would be music and flowers. Choji was to be _strictly_ advised to wear his nicest clothes, while Karui had the option of dropping by the Yamanakas' house to pick out a suitable dress to wear, if she wasn't bringing any.

An admonishment against over-eating would also be included in Choji's note, along with a warning, in no uncertain terms, that there would be hell to pay if he didn't comply with Ino's orders. Shikamaru inserted a line of well wishes at the end – a small attempt at diverting his best friend's attention from Ino's threat of punishment if Choji dared to come in with a messy tie.

Reading over the notes one last time, Shikamaru folded them in half and slid them over to Izumo, who appeared more alert than his partner, who had, in the meantime, taken to building a house of cards from three Hanafuda decks.

"Sorry, slow day," Izumo said, accepting the messages with an apologetic look. "Hardly anyone's come by in the past couple of hours."

"Hn, it's fine."

Shikamaru leaned back in his seat and stared out at the forested path ahead. He didn't feel like going back to his apartment just yet, but Choji wasn't expected back for an hour, at least. He couldn't wait that long – this _thing_ between them or not, Ino wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass for being late.

But what was their _thing_ , anyway, exactly? The incoherence of his thoughts on this particular topic was unfamiliar and discomfiting, but it wasn't like he could ask her outright. Or could he? He wasn't sure anymore. Shikamaru ran a hand over his face with a muted groan.

What a troublesome mess.

"Hey, Nara."

He glared, annoyed, at the man on his left. "What?"

Kotetsu, whose arms were now folded on top of the desk, nodded at him with a grin. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No." Shikamaru scoffed and proceeded to scowl at the still-empty road. "Why would you even say that?"

The older Chunin chuckled and gave him a knowing glance. "'Cause, right now, it looks like you're sulking, buddy, and today being today, it's really not that hard to piece it all together."

"Tch. Well, you're wrong, because I am not sulking."

"Right. _Right_. You're just having a major case of the frowns today."

"I'm not…" Shikamaru shifted in his seat and released a tensed breath. "Just shut up, and leave me alone, alright?"

"Ha! Spoken like a true, angsty young adult!" Kotetsu exclaimed, as he exchanged an amused glance with his partner. Then he leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial tone, whispered, "But it's _that_ bad, huh?"

"It's nothing, is what it is," Shikamaru grumbled, and folded his arms over his chest, disgruntled. He was aware that this action was only supporting Kotetsu's earlier argument, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when Ino was prancing around in his brain and confusing the hell out of him.

He sighed. No rest for him, at this point.

"I'll just go," Shikamaru announced, to no one in particular, as he stood up and started the walk back to his apartment.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Hello! I apologize for the lateness of this update. I was terribly unmotivated for a bit… But I am thinking of publishing two more chapters and, if I'm in the mood for it, an epilogue. No promises, though! Thanks for reading (as always), and let me know what you think of this chapter. Happy days to you!_


	8. One Hour

_4:55 p.m._

Time was crawling unbelievably slow, Shikamaru could hardly believe it. He could have sworn that second hand should be halfway through its cycle by now, but, no, it was only ticking its way past the character for "three." He sighed, a little forlornly, before taking another bite of the carrot stick.

Similarly, he was sure twenty minutes had passed since he arrived, and not the nine minutes nonsense the wall clock was taunting him with. Shikamaru lowered his brows, his eyes narrowing at the analog device. Maybe it was just broken, or the battery was close to draining – which was a logical enough conclusion: he hadn't checked the back of the thing since his mother (passive-aggressively) gave it to him as a housewarming present six months ago.

How long were batteries supposed to last, anyway? Several months? A year? Two? He honestly didn't know, that tidbit of information being too trivial for him to keep. There were far more important and useful things to remember than the life of a tiny electrical component, after all.

Besides, Shikamaru was certain a digital clock was a better device, overall. For one, it ran on electricity, not on batteries, which meant less maintenance and more time to keep other, bigger things in his apartment running smoothly.

(Like the shower area, whose faulty pipes he'd sworn to report to his landlord two months ago, but had never gotten round to doing… Huh, really odd how that happened.)

Digital clocks also did not make endless, annoying ticking sounds – which, most nights, only seemed to emphasize how utterly sad his late dinner of greasy take-out food or instant ramen really was – so why in the world his beloved mother would gift him this (possibly faulty) wall clock was beyond him.

Or, maybe, that was part of the plan all along: that the ticking would (a) cause Shikamaru endless bouts of irritation and (b) remind him, every day, of the nourishing, home-cooked meals he was missing out on by moving out of his parents' house.

These, aside from the obvious, major objective to instill in him the "time is gold" concept and dissuade him from the lamentable habit of tardiness.

Shikamaru chewed another piece off the carrot stick and nodded to himself. Yeah, he wouldn't put that reasoning past Nara Yoshino, who, in spite of her crackling exterior, appeared to be genuinely disappointed that he'd outgrown the family home.

Ah, well. Adulthood and all that messy crap.

Speaking of messy, his floor was still strewn with variously shaped pieces of paper that he, for all the positive thinking and motivation in the world, couldn't bring himself to clean up. Partly because it was his old lazy tendencies creeping in, but more because it wasn't even his – it was Ino's, and that aggravating, blonde litterbug of a former teammate hadn't arrived yet, in spite of her earlier entreaty for him to not be late.

It was troublesome, really, how he'd been waiting for her for – what? – ten minutes, sixteen seconds, and counting, perched on the kitchen counter with nothing else to do but eat her meticulously sliced and packed carrot and celery sticks, which, for the record, did not taste great but were still preferable to the egg salad monstrosity Ino had also stored in his refrigerator that morning.

One would think that after being brazen enough to throw out some of his groceries ("The canned mackerel had to go," said one Post-it note, without further explanation), Ino would – _at the very least_ – have the decency to not include his least favorite food in the mix of healthy snacks she stocked in his kitchen afterwards, but no.

Vehemently, and apparently, no.

Patting a thick layer of peanut butter on a celery stick, Shikamaru sighed and took a reluctant bite. What did he expect from Ino anyway? Some semblance of kindness? Understanding? _Modesty_?

Yeah, _right_.

He snorted and ate the rest of the snack, managing not to grimace once. Raw vegetables really made for rather disgusting snacks, and he pondered how Ino could stand the stuff. She'd been bringing blanched green beans, stir-fried bean sprouts, roasted cauliflowers, and all manner of steamed produce since their genin days. It was no wonder she'd been so slender—

 _Nope._

He was going to stop this line of thinking right there.

Letting out a long, slow breath, Shikamaru poured himself a glass of cold water and gulped it all down. Great. So the past eleven minutes' exercise to not think about Ino was wasted, because he somehow always ended up thinking about some Ino-related idea, and then everything would snowball from there.

He brought the still-cold glass against his forehead and groaned. Maybe he was coming down with a fever, or maybe it was just plain old exhaustion – that B-Rank from a couple of days ago wasn't exactly forgiving – but he was sick in the head: he was sure of it.

Oh, what he would give to have Choji right there to talk this over with. It wouldn't make it any easier, of course, but at least he could bounce ideas off someone who knew Ino well. He didn't have to keep it all to himself.

But the man was still on the road, having just finished a week-long mission with his genin team. No amount of prayers could make his best friend appear outside his apartment's front door right that very—

"Hey, Shikamaru!"

Sitting bolt upright, and nearly dropping the glass in the process, Shikamaru slowly turned to the direction of the voice, then leveled an incredulous gaze at the small kitchen window. Choji's jovial face beamed at him from outside, one large hand waving a flimsy piece of paper in the air.

"I got your message," the too-good-to-be-true mirage of the Akimichi heir boomed. "Some effort you put in here, huh?" he added, with a good-natured chuckle.

Shikamaru tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows. "Choji?"

"The one and only," came the answer, accompanied by a broad grin. "Oh, hey, do you have any chips in there? I'm starving! I haven't eaten in two hours, and I badly need a drink. Man, running _sucks_."

Choji wiped his forehead with a tired grimace, while Shikamaru just stared at him in disbelief. Team 5 wasn't even scheduled to arrive until half past five, and yet here was their Jonin sensei, gesturing at him a tad frantically from outside. Could a bunch of inexperienced genin even run fast enough to reach Konoha in record time?

Shikamaru doubted it – those low-on-stamina kids were good for three kilometers of nonstop, full-on running, tops – but there was _Choji_ , in the flesh and miming something about a parched throat. Even he couldn't deny that it was his best friend out there, and not a clone or anything of that pranking sort.

Still, one could never be entirely sure.

"What are you doing here?"

Choji stopped gesticulating long enough to shoot him a puzzled glance. "Eh? I thought you knew? Ino said to drop by as soon as we arrived, so here I am."

"Said?" Shikamaru mulled this over some. It indicated a form of communication between the two – telepathic was likely – but Ino was evidently not letting him in on some things. "What did she say, exactly?"

Choji shrugged, like he couldn't care less. "Just that you might need help with some stuff. I don't know... But, seriously, is that door any close to opening? 'Cause I think I need to use the facilities too."

"Yeah, yeah, one moment."

Right, so, what did this tell him? That Ino "talked" to Choji and asked – or, most likely, demanded – him to come in early, bypass the mission report to the Hokage, and pay him a visit to "help with some stuff."

Said stuff was unidentified, but, on one hand, maybe she was aware, on some level, of the absolute clusterfuck she wrecked on him and sent Choji along to help him deal with it. Or, it could just be Ino being Ino, keeping an eye on him to get him moving and packing whatever else they needed for the night... which he'd been meaning to do, but got sidetracked by Choji's arrival. (Obviously.)

Taking all this into consideration, Shikamaru turned an exasperated gaze at the ceiling. He didn't know what to feel about it – about everything, actually – and Choji pressing his face against the window pane like a boy at a candy shop wasn't helping him figure that out any quicker.

Sighing loudly, he slipped off the counter and padded over to his front door.

"About time!" Choji exclaimed, and immediately made a beeline for the bathroom. "Thought I'd have to pee on your neighbor's bushes or something."

"Yeah, well, their plants needed watering anyhow," Shikamaru deadpanned, as he trudged back to the adjoining kitchen. Quietly lamenting the lack of salt-rich snacks within, he reopened his refrigerator and eyed its paltry contents. It was probably unintentional, but _of course_ Ino would send a hungry Akimichi _his_ way after spring cleaning the shit out of his food stores.

Grousing under his breath, he straightened up. "Hey, Choji? I know I'm not much of a host, but your choice of snacks is _really_ limited at the moment."

"Oh, yeah? What'd Ino do?" the larger man asked, a knowing grin plastered on his face as he dried his hands on a paper towel. "Throw out your food? Replace them all with healthy alternatives?"

Ha, glad they were on the same page.

"Yes to both," he muttered, before diving behind the fridge door once more. "We're talking egg salad, leafy salad, don't-know-what's-in-this salad, some sweet potatoes, a hunk of cheese I don't remember buying, and this suspicious carton labeled homemade yogurt. What's it going to be?"

"Just the sweet potatoes, thanks," Choji replied, surveying the state of the living room as he did so. "Ino really went to town here, huh?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "Tch, tell me about it. She's been here since three a.m., being troublesome and all that." He gave an extra weary sigh and scratched the back of his neck. "It's been 'Shikamaru do this, Shikamaru do that' for thirteen hours – can you imagine?"

Choji gave a grunt which could have been sympathetic – it was a little hard to tell with the man gorging on his food with such gusto – but Shikamaru would take what he could get. He slumped to the floor, sitting cross-legged across his visitor, and rested his cheek on his palm.

"And she had the gall to criticize everything here after I took her drunk and broken-hearted ass in at – _I repeat_ – three freaking a.m. and gave her the bed. Sheesh, I should've just let her sleep on the couch... I don't even know where she got those Post-its! Seems to me like she brought them along just to snark at me."

"Wouldn't put it past her."

Or, at least, that's what it sounded like.

"Right? She's such a drag." Shikamaru massaged his temples and groaned. "I swear, I can't, and won't, do this again. You know what? I'm gonna go ahead and give you permission to punch me if I'm about to agree to another one of Ino's shenanigans."

Choji paused, a chunk of sweet potato halfway to his yawning mouth, and blinked. "I can't do that," he said, in all seriousness.

At Shikamaru's questioning glance, he elaborated, "I could kill you."

And at his what-the-fuck expression, Choji added, "Do you even _know_ how many times Ino dupes you into doing something for her? Wait, wait, never mind; don't think about it! Sakura already did the math, and it's something like 3.5 times a day, and you guys only see each other, approximately, three times a week. That's a lot of punches, Shikamaru." Choji shook his head sadly and put down his morsel. "I know you're a pretty resilient guy and all, but there's just no way you'll survive that kind of agreement. _No way_."

Then he went right back to eating, like nothing happened at all, but Shikamaru gaped at the ridiculous nature of what had just been said. Barring the revelation that both Sakura and Choji were (apparently) conducting some sick sociological study on him and Ino, he couldn't believe the number of times he fell for the blonde's charms. There was the possibility that no actual calculation had been made and the figure was manufactured, but, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that their friends might be right.

He scowled, even as he felt his neck flush hotly. "Ugh, just kill me now," he murmured, almost pleadingly.

Choji raised an eyebrow, and shook his head once more. "Man, you're hopeless."

"Thanks," Shikamaru mumbled against his palm, his tone sarcastic and despairing at once. "That makes me feel _so_ much better."

"Eh, some things you just can't help," his best friend countered (most unhelpfully, he might add), with a strange sort of grin.

But Shikamaru didn't have time to ponder what _that_ meant, because Ino chose that moment to arrive, boxed wine in one hand and a selection of dresses on the other. She considered both of them momentarily, the light from the sun setting on his porch framing her just right, before breaking into a wide smile and strutting over to their huddled figures.

"Hey there," she cooed, more to Choji than Shikamaru, really. "Glad you could make it! And ahead of time, too!"

"Ah, but when you threaten to decapitate me with a dull butter knife, how could I not?" answered Choji, with a warm, hearty laugh. "You really scared the crap out of my students, by the way; I think Hiroki was mewling from the border all the way to the Gate," he added. "S'alright, though. It was pretty entertaining to have you instill the fear of Ino in them."

She pretend-pouted, but gave way to a sheepish smile soon after. "Hm, yeah, sorry about that. I was a bit frazzled, so I kind of missed the mark a bit."

"By a wide margin, you mean?"

Ino scoffed and threw Shikamaru a can-you- _believe_ -what-he's-saying-about-me look, but he paid her no mind, glancing off instead to the right. He wasn't sure if that was to play off the fact that he was staring at her or because he didn't want to meet her eyes.

Both, probably.

"Anyway," said Ino, shrugging off his inattention glibly. "I'll just hang these in the closet, and then we'll talk about how your night will go. Aren't you excited? Oh, I'm so excited!"

She flounced off to his bedroom, nattering about something or the other – "the roses" was all he caught – and Shikamaru, again, marveled (worried?) at the ease with which she moved about his apartment. Like she lived there or something. He frowned, listening to the sound of hangers being moved in his closet, and determined that he was doomed.

"Okay," she breathed, wiping her hands on her skirt (which made him wonder if his closet was _that_ dusty). "So... Initially, I thought we should keep this under wraps, but I figured it would be better if you knew what's going to happen."

Her slightly condescending tone suggested that she figured Choji would act too awkwardly for the proceedings to go as she planned, but the latter merely took it in stride and listened to her attentively.

"But, before I go on: Shika, could you tend to the roses, please? Just a spritz of water will do." Without waiting for an answer, she retrieved an empty spray bottle from a box of supplies, handed it to him, and smiled. "Thank you so much!"

Shikamaru stared at the object in her hand wearily, before swiping at it and rising from his seated position. It was only when he passed Choji that he caught the teasing I-told-you-so gleam in his best friend's eyes, and he very nearly deflated.

How troublesome.

Running a hand through his hair ruefully, Shikamaru amended his previous thought: he was doomed, and terribly, _terribly_ so.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ _Hello, hello! If you're waiting for the culmination of all these preparations, I'm sorry to say but you'll have to wait one more chapter. I did intend to start the dinner here but I got sidetracked by a particular story line, I'm so sorry. Anyway, I am going to live up to my irl indecisiveness and say that I've decided to make this an even ten chapters. Hope you enjoy this one, and don't forget to let me know what you think!_

 _Edit note: Cut out a chunk at the bottom of this chapter. Deemed it unnecessary. Carry on. :)_


	9. Zero Hour

_5:58 p.m._

As it turned out, folding a thick blanket into a travel-sized shape required a lot more concentration than Shikamaru was willing to give. The sad heap of cloth sitting at his feet was certainly not the desired result of roughly seven minutes of trying. He sighed, grumbling, and picked it up, only for his eyes to wander across the room, for what seemed like the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes, and settle on Ino.

Presently occupied with filling an empty box with plucked rose petals, she hadn't spoken, much less looked his way, since Choji left some thirty minutes ago. He figured she was just busy with preparations, but there was something calculatedly deliberate about the distance she kept and the way she glided past him whenever their paths crossed in his small apartment.

Not that he was any better. He had, after all, just spent a suspiciously long time locked in the bathroom, strategizing and contemplating what to do next. It wasn't ideal, but he couldn't very well do his thinking in his bedroom, as it currently smelled too strongly of Ino and her perfumed dresses.

Shikamaru didn't think he'd ever known a woman with such a dizzyingly, enticingly signature scent, but, regardless, it was a bad environment for what he had been trying to do: which was rationalize and (hopefully) think clearly about what it all meant.

Or if it meant anything at all. He wasn't really one to presume.

By the end of his poorly thought out method of contemplation (primarily inspired by his father's not-so-sage advice: "In the absence of an actual panic room, the bathroom/shed/utility closet would have to do"), Shikamaru finally chanced upon a plan – the same plan he should have mobilized hours ago, if the imaginary lump in his throat hadn't been so insistent in barring his words from coming out of his mouth: talk it over with Ino.

In his mind, it had been so simple: approach and converse. But reality was a cruel bitch, that, as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, Ino was on full ignore-the-lazy-idiot-in-the-room mode and hadn't made eye contact since.

Ah, yeah, that was very much his fault, now that he _really_ thought about it. So, on top of being harried about Choji and Karui's dinner date (which was what this was all about, remember), Ino was also pissed at him. Disappearing without a word definitely wasn't his best idea (damn his father), and he was sorry for that.

And he would tell her as much, if only she wasn't too busy caring for her damned roses.

Shikamaru heaved a deep breath. He should keep a cool head about this and not be impatient. Wasn't his social persona all about that, anyway? He squared his shoulders, draped the troublesome blanket over the couch, and walked over to Ino.

"Do you still have my list? I need to double-check if we've got everything we need."

He stopped and raised his eyebrows. She hadn't even bothered to turn around when she spoke, extending her arm behind her instead.

"Well?"

He was in for a tough time, if the irritation seeping into her tone was any indication. Pity he liked her too much to be cautious and just run away.

"Yeah, over here."

Retrieving the rumpled piece of paper from his pocket, Shikamaru carefully placed it on her palm. Her manicured fingers instantly curled over it, and she snatched her hand back before he could do anything stupid, like grab her and turn her around to face him.

He ran a hand loosely through his hair. Of course it wouldn't be _that_ easy. He was dealing with Ino, for Kami's sake. He looked up and tried again.

"Hey, Ino?"

"Hm?" she hummed distractedly, fingers flitting over the delicate petals before depositing them, almost lovingly, in her box. "What?"

Shikamaru shifted his weight uneasily. He was, more or less, set on the plan, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous. "Don't you think we should – I dunno – talk?"

Ino glanced at him briefly. "Hate to break it to you, genius, but we are talking right now. Can you pass me the glitter? For some reason, it's not in here yet..."

He passed her the requested packets, silently wishing he wouldn't find any of that stuff in his clothes come morning. Doing laundry was already punishing as it was; he didn't need freaking glitter to compound that soul-crushing task.

"No, that's not what I meant, and I think you know that." Shikamaru paused, to allow her a moment to let it sink in. Or maybe to buy himself more time before the inevitable. "I think..." He cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt. Kami, he hoped Ino _appreciated_ the effort he was putting into this. "I think we should talk about how you kissed me."

"Twice," he made sure to add. That seemed important, somehow.

Several beats of silence passed.

"Why?" spoke Ino, finally. "I thought you said it wasn't a problem? Or were you, in actuality, _so_ traumatized that you need a debriefing?" she continued, looking at him over her shoulder, an amused glow in her eyes.

Relief surged through him at the sight of that gleam. Maybe he had a chance of surviving this, head and heart intact, after all. "No, it's not," he answered, in all honesty. "You... You actually kiss really well."

Ino gave an unladylike snort. "I should," she said, a hint of gloating in her tone. "I've been practicing on the back of my hand since we were twelve."

"Oh, yeah?" He couldn't help the smirk on his face. "Those practice dummies on Training Ground 10 have anything to do with that too?"

She looked indignant for a spell. "I never did!" exclaimed Ino, eyes widening slightly. "That was just a stupid, baseless rumor spread by that pink-haired floozy! Ugh, I'll get her one day..."

Shikamaru chuckled, then shrugged. "Regardless, you're a pretty great kisser."

"Well, thank you," she said, with a tinkling kind of laugh. Then, a teasing grin tugged at the corners of her curved lips. "And, you know, you're not bad yourself, Shikamaru."

He blinked. "I'm... not bad?"

"Oh, yes," she replied airily, as she stood and turned around, her gaze drifting down for a moment, before flitting up to meet his again. "You're _not bad_."

"I... Really?" Shikamaru shot her a dubious look, and only just then noticed the quickening of his heartbeat. He swallowed, uncertain of whether he should feel offended at the back-handed compliment or turned on at the sight of Ino biting her bottom lip playfully.

He clicked his tongue. Damn this troublesome woman.

When she was close enough, Shikamaru reached out, placed his hands on her hips, and pulled her closer. Throwing her head back for a breathless laugh, Ino obliged and came to him. She draped her arms over his shoulders and smiled.

"Or, you know," she murmured, her fingers ghosting over his stubbled jaw lightly. "I might change my opinion of you, if you'd care to remind me."

"I... You..." Well, _shit._ His mouth wasn't working properly. She really ought to stop looking at him like that. "You... need a reminder?"

Ino's smile widened marginally. "Hm, I might..."

He looked into her eyes, gauging her sincerity. Was Ino toying with him? Why would she even be interested? Wasn't she still mourning her just-ended relationship? Were they moving too fast?

But there was no doubt in her too-blue eyes – and what was _that_ supposed to mean? The knots in the pit of his stomach were simultaneously twisting and unraveling with each passing second.

"If I kiss you now, it would have to mean something," Shikamaru said seriously. "You know that, right?"

"Well, _genius_ , who's to say the first one didn't mean anything?" Slowly, Ino rose on her tiptoes and tilted her chin upwards. "Now," she murmured, licking her lips a little too sultrily for his comfort. "Kiss me."

Smirking slightly at her impatience, Shikamaru leaned down and captured her perfect pink lips in a light, tentative kiss, and for a few sickeningly sweet seconds, everything was right with the world. He could feel Ino smile against him, her fingers lacing behind his neck to pull them both closer.

"And, so?" he whispered, laying his forehead against hers. "What does that mean?"

Ino shook her head. "Oh, I don't know yet. But maybe if you kiss me longer..?"

Shikamaru sighed and rolled his eyes. "Kami, you're so needy," he groused, before slanting over her teasing mouth again, none too gently this time.

She purred, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, as one of his hands settled at the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek. Gently, he angled her head to the side to deepen the kiss, and Ino let him, more than ready to have him take the lead.

But before they could get much of a rhythm going, an obnoxiously loud knocking started on his front door.

With a disappointed grunt, Shikamaru pulled away from Ino, and glared at the foyer. Narrowing his eyes at the door, the knocking started up again, louder and more insistent this time.

"Well? Go get it," Ino giggled, patting his chest affectionately.

She pushed him back when he didn't budge, sticking her tongue out childishly. He scowled as he turned to approach the door, already cursing whoever this dastardly scoundrel was to death.

Frowning, he swung the door open and grumbled a testy, "What?"

Brows furrowed deeply, Choji shoved two identical bow-ties in his face. "So, this one, or this one? I'm kind of going for the one on the left, but my old man says the other one looks better with my vest. What do you think?"

Shikamaru stared at two objects with disinterest. "Left," he muttered curtly, and made to close the door.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" A large, meaty hand halted his already-halfway progress. "What about shoes? Dark brown, black, or midnight blue? What pairs best with these pants?"

Giving his best friend a quick once-over, he shrugged. "Looks great with whatever. Bye."

"No, no! One more thing!" Choji protested, sticking his socked foot in the door quickly. "Do you have any wax? I ran out last week, and I was thinking of just pushing my hair back tonight and–"

"Just run really fast and the wind will do it for you, easy," Shikamaru quipped, and edged his friend's appendages out of the frame. "See you later, Choji. Thanks for dropping by."

Choji gave him a quizzical glance. "But, aren't you even going to invite me in?"

"No." Shikamaru looked back into the room. "Kind of busy at the moment," he added, with a slight sniff. "Can't."

"Sure?" Choji tried to see over his shoulder. "What've you got back there? You hiding something?"

"Just a bunch of stuff. Flowers. Clothes. Things. You know."

"I... don't? I really don't.

Impatient, Shikamaru sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Listen, just go, alright? You can't be here right now. _I'm serious_."

Which seemed to be the wrong thing to say in that situation, because the next second, Shikamaru found himself being knocked back a couple of steps, nearly tripping over a packet of crafting material, with the door swinging on its hinges. He swore under his breath as he dusted himself off, wondering if he had just inadvertently added to the list of things he had to report to his landlord for repairs.

Choji, though, was rather pleased with himself, his knowing, brown eyes flitting across the room in an apparent survey of what could be so important that he couldn't be let in.

Shikamaru quietly watched his friend's expression morph from excitement to disappointment in five seconds flat. He exhaled, strangely relieved, and spied his bedroom door closing from the periphery of his vision. There she was, he thought with a smirk, before striding over to where Choji stood.

"Well?" he said. "Nothing to see here."

"Yeah," his best friend agreed. "But I could've sworn you were..." Choji looked at him, and suddenly gaped. "Is that... Is that pink lipstick on your collar?"

On instinct, Shikamaru looked down.

And groaned.

"Aha!" Choji exclaimed, perking up instantly. "Uh-oh! Have I interrupted a romp?" he chortled shamelessly. "Oh, hey! Where'd you hide Ino? Hey, Ino!"

Wanting very badly to smack himself in the head, Shikamaru wore a betrayed sort of pout and fell back on his couch. How could he have _forgotten_ he was wearing a black shirt? Dark clothes comprised 70% of his closet, for Kami's sake.

"So?" he grumbled, arms crossed over his torso. "What? Are you enjoying yourself now?"

Choji wiped a tear from the side of his face and straightened up, still clutching his belly. "This is some good shit, Shikamaru. _Good. Shit._ I swear, the guys'll laugh their asses off–"

" _The guys_ don't have to know," he gritted out.

"Oh, okay, okay... Kiba's reaction, though..."

Shikamaru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Choji..."

"Okay, okay!" The larger man rumbled out one last laugh, before settling for a broad grin. "But I got you there real good, pal. Oldest trick in the book, and you _still_ fell for it!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. You win." Shikamaru rubbed his jaw and sighed. What would Ino's reaction be to this new development? He was pretty certain she'd punch the daylights out of him as soon as he stepped into his room, but, then again, she'd been full of surprises lately. Maybe he could count on one more.

"I'll go change, and then we're leaving," he said, standing up and heading for his room.

Ignoring the all too suggestive wink from his best friend, Shikamaru turned the knob and let himself in. A mildly amused Ino was waiting for him on the other side, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. She had changed into a new, weather-appropriate dress in the meantime, the thick fabric still fetchingly clinging to her curves.

"Well, we obviously need to work on your diversions and excuses," she said, and nimbly danced out of his grasp when she passed him. "Oh, sorry, strict hands off policy when we're working," she sang out with a laugh. "I'll deal with Choji while you get changed. Also, we are _seriously_ running late."

Ino stepped out, closing the door behind her smoothly, but not before he heard her say, "So, Choji, you were looking for me? Why? Up for a threesome, are you?"

To which his best friend replied, very aptly, with a loud, indignant sputter.

Shikamaru smirked, in spite of himself, and set about finding a clean, black shirt.

* * *

 _6:37 p.m._

Ino checked her hair in the restaurant window one more time, running her fingers over her fringe and then pulling at the end of her ponytail – a nervous habit she had taken to adopting in the past three minutes.

"You look fine," Shikamaru assured her, with his usual drawl. "And it's not like _you're_ the one on the date, so stop fussing."

"I can't _not_ fuss," she huffed, smoothing down the imaginary frizzed strands on her head. "Because I planned this night, and things better go right, or so help me..."

This went on for a couple more beats, until she tired of her hair and started plucking at the knitting patterns on her dress. "Ugh, where is Karui?" she groused, frowning a little. "She should be here by now."

Shikamaru stood straighter and looked out at the milling crowd. The Kumogakure kunoichi's fiery red hair was still nowhere to be seen. He slouched back down and checked his watch. Only eight minutes had passed since they arrived. In his opinion, they ought to start panicking only after a half hour, and even then, one could still rationalize Karui's continued absence in a number of ways.

Perhaps she was delayed on the way to Konoha by a (very minor) setback, and thus couldn't arrive at the appointed time.

Or perhaps she met an acquaintance at the Gate and was engaged in conversation and hadn't noticed that time was passing.

Whatever it was, Shikamaru was certain there was a reason for Karui's tardiness, and that they shouldn't worry too much over it. After all, if Choji wasn't pulling his hair out by the roots yet, they shouldn't have a reason to.

"Oh, gods, this plan has already failed, hasn't it?" mourned Ino, looking up at the starry heavens despairingly. "And it hasn't even begun yet! Ooh, I shouldn't have gone through with it..."

"Shut up for a moment, and _wait_ ," Shikamaru advised, squinting at the crowded street. "The night's not over yet, Ino. Stop worrying."

She fumed, miffed that he would dare tell her to shut up, but kept quiet nonetheless. She still acted antsy, though, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and puffing out loud sighs every now and then. Annoyed, Shikamaru frowned and nudged her shoulder. In response, Ino hissed at him, cat-like and severely irritated, while Choji just watched their exchange with barely contained glee.

* * *

 _6:45 p.m._

"Well," Ino said, before sliding a snide glance at Shikamaru.

The latter just rolled his eyes, before muttering, "Sixteen minutes, Ino. I'm _sure_ you can wait for longer than that."

"Well, I'm sure I _can't_ ," she protested, with an impatient stomp of her foot. "My ego is riding on this – it cannot fail!"

Well, he supposed it was good that she was honest about what all of this meant to her. With a sigh, he thrust his hands in his pockets. "Sheesh, fine. If Karui doesn't arrive in the next five minutes, I'll go look for her. Happy?"

"Oh, _very_ ," she cooed, and batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. "Thank you, Shika!"

Shikamaru grunted a surly "yes," and watched the crowd once more.

* * *

 _6:49 p.m._

It was with a great helping of relief that he murmured a "she's here" at his two companions. Their reactions, however, were startling studies in contrast: Ino beamed at him like he'd done something short of miraculous, while Choji just looked like he wanted to vomit the chips he'd ingested in the past fifteen minutes.

Not like Shikamaru could blame him. If the velvet box Choji had absent-mindedly revealed earlier was any indication, his best friend was in for the worst-slash-best night of his life. Smirking lopsidedly, Shikamaru gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

"Hey, good luck."

Choji gulped, and shook any remaining crumbs off his shirt and vest. "Ye-yeah, buddy. Thanks." He stood stock-still as the unmistakable flash of red hair weaved in and out of the evening crowd. "I... I don't think I can go through with this."

"Nonsense." Shikamaru stole a quick sideways glance at their other companion. "You'll know what to do when the time comes, I think."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Choji joked, in an effort to rid himself of his anxiousness, but it clearly wasn't working. "Oh, _oh_ , I think I'm going to throw up..." he whispered, turning an unsightly shade of green.

"Tch, what are you talking about? You got this."

Shikamaru pushed his best friend forward, lest he chicken out and run away, and right onto Karui's path. The red-haired kunoichi merely raised her eyebrows, before breaking into a grin and punching Choji's shoulder lightly.

"Hey there," she greeted. "Sorry I'm late. Ran into a couple of friends along the way–"

Shikamaru shot Ino a knowing smirk, which she returned with a petulant pout.

"–and didn't notice it was almost seven until someone said so. Really sorry, you guys, for any inconvenience I may have caused."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Ino piped in, almost immediately, in a saccharine sweet voice. "We just got here, too. It's totally fine!"

Shikamaru didn't know if she was being sarcastic or not, but he chose not to make any sort of response, regardless; Choji just carried on looking sick and uncomfortable.

"And these are for you," the blonde continued, handing the bouquet of roses to Karui with a mega-watt smile. "I hope you like them. They're a special breed of flowers, you know. Grown exclusively in our greenhouse, which, by the way, you're welcome to visit anytime. Oh, have Choji take you! He knows his way around."

Ino prodded the aforementioned man with her elbow, hoping for a positive response, but all she got was a deflated grunt. She pursed her lips, but kept her (possibly inflammatory) retort in and opted for another smile.

"Anyway," she said, flicking her fringe to the side a little testily. "Let's get you two inside, shall we? Miyamoto-san will take care of you, and bring you to your seats. I really hope you enjoy your night!"

"Oh, thanks," answered Karui, returning the smile easily. "For everything, in advance. It's a welcome break from all the barbecue places this guy insists on taking me to, I'm telling you. A girl can only eat so much beef before it all starts to taste the same, blech."

Ino laughed, but Shikamaru could sense a tongue-lashing in store for the poor Akimichi tomorrow. "Ah, I know what you mean. I'm positively sick of charcoal grills at this point."

"Right?! All that smoke and oil..." Karui stuck her tongue out. "If my company wasn't so enjoyable, I probably wouldn't bother going at all."

Choji cracked a wan smile at that, but didn't say anything. Instead, he followed his girlfriend, almost robotically, through the restaurant door. With a final, uneasy wave, they disappeared behind the wavering cloth.

As soon as the door swished shut, Ino, most predictably, huffed. "Oh, I can't believe that Choji! How could he not bring Karui somewhere other than Yakiniku-Q?! Ugh, he needs a primer on dating."

"I don't see why he needs one," Shikamaru spoke, strolling languidly beside her. "He's had the longest running relationship out of the three of us. I'd count that as a success, barbecue and all."

She sighed dramatically. "Hm, well, I guess you're right," she conceded, with a slight pout.

They went in silence for a while, and Shikamaru felt, for the first time, that he shouldn't have to care where, exactly, they were going. He was walking with Ino, and that seemed just as important as the destination, if it mattered at all.

Maybe he'd come to like the aimlessness. Who knew?

Tentatively, he brushed his hand against hers, and felt her index curl against his ring finger. She threw a smile his way, before focusing back on the street with a blush.

...Yeah, he could get used to it.

"Hey, I think this is it," Ino mused, after a few blocks. She stopped in front of an old, abandoned building, its walls littered with unsightly scrawls and graffiti. She tugged at his hand, and moved forward. "We're going in."

"Wait, what?" Should he amend that bit about not caring about their destination? Because he _definitely_ cared now. "What are we doing here, exactly?"

Ino raised a delicate eyebrow, and said, "We're going to the rooftop, of course, to watch our bumbling teammate's date. What else?"

With that, she plunged into the yawning darkness, her light blonde ponytail swinging and glowing dimly under the moonlight. Shikamaru watched her go, not with a little prickling feeling, but followed her nonetheless.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Another early update! You might be pleased to know that I'm taking advantage of my loooong weekend to finish this story, and if all goes well on this front, I might be able to publish the final chapter in a few days. Also, I am entirely unsure if I'm writing Choji and Karui well enough, i.e. keeping them in character. I'm taking a lot of liberties with the progress of their relationship (which was nil in the manga) and I hope that pays off. Gah! Please, please, let me know what you think (esp. with regard to whether I am still making sense or if I've thrown this train off the rails), and am ever thankful of your continued patronage. Have a great day!_


	10. After Hours

_7:43 p.m._

Sagging against the grit-laced parapet, Shikamaru laid the binoculars aside and rubbed at his eyes. Twenty or so minutes of surveillance with nothing significant to show for it was proving to be quite the mind-numbing chore.

True, Choji and Karui were just halfway through their entrée, the conversation Ino was dying for wasn't likely to start until after dessert, and so some downtime was to be expected, but this was just ridiculous: movement on the duo's part had been _very_ minimal, and Shikamaru was pretty sure they'd been having the same conversation since the first course was served – which he couldn't follow anyway, because it was filled with all these little inside jokes and mushy stuff that couples of a certain closeness shared. Reading lips from this distance was a pain in the ass, too: he could barely make out what Choji was saying in between those large mouthfuls of food.

Thus far, it had been a complete waste of his time, and Shikamaru most assuredly wasn't looking forward to more of it – that long-awaited proposal (and his best friend's eternal happiness) be damned.

...Well, not really, because that would be selfish and terrible of him. Plus, Ino definitely wouldn't hesitate to give him flak for it, and what a real treat that'd be, huh?

Shikamaru breathed out a resigned sigh. Right. Because he just _had to_ kiss the girl with over-the-top notions about romance and all its accompanying frills. He shook his head ruefully. Kami, what kind of idiot masochist...

But never mind that now. He had work to do – no matter how unsavory he was finding it to be. Ino, that veritable kicker of asses and draconian boss-lady, would be pretty upset if she caught him slacking. Probably best to cut the break short and return to his assigned duty.

So thinking, and with a rather reluctant groan, Shikamaru extricated himself from the comfort only a slouched position could offer and reached for the discarded binoculars.

As luck would have it, it wasn't exactly difficult to reestablish his former position. In spite of his early misgivings (which were very much justified, by the way), Ino had chosen their vantage point well: ten storeys afforded them quite the unobstructed view of Konoha's downtown district, and when one was spying from a distance, not having a bunch of stray telephone wires or a full clothesline obscuring the quarry's position was immensely helpful.

(Especially when one was spying only half-heartedly, but that was a thought for another time, yes?)

Shikamaru raised the glasses to his eyes and peered out in the direction of the Miyamotos' restaurant, which was located several blocks away. It wasn't that hard to locate it again either, as he'd identified a number of markers within its vicinity during the initial search. That way, he could find his way back easily: he just had to trace this (invisible) path from the neon green billboard in Main Street to the _oden_ cart in front of the–

"What the hell?"

Shikamaru creased his eyebrows. Instead of the alleyways of Konoha, he was looking over the village again, which, from this height, seemed to be rendered in miniature. This was a fine sight and all, but, really, if the woman wanted things done...

"Ino," he groaned, almost pathetically, as he turned around to face his companion. "What do you think you're doing?"

Signature cheeky grin in place, Ino dangled the binoculars before his eyes. "Hey, you," she crooned, looking quite pleased with herself. "How's it going?"

She smelled like roses – well, more than the usual – and her fingers were stained with glitter. Shikamaru assumed she had just finished unpacking and preparing whatever the hell else needed to be unpacked and prepared, but what he didn't understand was why she had to go around bothering him after finishing her tasks.

(Which was not to say that he wasn't pleased to see her, of course.)

"Actually," he began, leaning back against the parapet. "I was just about to check on Choji and Karui, so if you could give those back, that'd be great."

Shikamaru stretched his hand out and looked at her expectantly, not quite certain if her interference was a good thing or not. On one hand, he wasn't currently being subjected to images of Choji scarfing down an exquisite dinner, but on the other, this stunt was only prolonging the time they were spending up on this freezing roof deck, and he'd like to cut that short, if it were at all possible, so he could go home and fall face-first into bed.

(Or was it 'they' now? He wasn't sure about that either.)

Regardless, he'd appreciate it if Ino gave an answer already. His position wasn't particularly comfortable – the parapet's surface being rather rough and uneven – and so he could feel the scattered bits of debris digging against his backside – a sensation which was not at all conducive for keeping an aloof calmness about things.

He sighed forlornly. What an absolute drag.

"Hey, you know what?" Ino piped up suddenly, making him look up from his one-man pity party. She smirked. "I don't think so."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, somewhat bemused by this declaration. "So, that's a no?"

"Yeah!" She smiled brightly and lifted her chin just a bit higher. "It is a no, Shika."

"Huh."

He peered at her curiously.

After a few moments, he exhaled a weary, "Well, alright then," before carefully stepping away from the parapet's edge. He couldn't get a proper read on what she wanted to do from this point forward, though the bashful-like quality of her smile told of a few possibilities.

"And what happens now?" prodded Shikamaru, as he walked up to loom over her. "Are we going to just... not do this anymore?"

Ino, her eyes glittering with plenty of mischief, reached a hand up and grabbed his jacket lapel. "No, silly," she whispered, urging him down with practiced ease. "You're going to show me how it's done."

"...Uh-huh." This impromptu closeness was doing terrible things for his comprehension. Hell, he couldn't even find it in himself to care that the woman was smearing glitter on the inside of his jacket. "And then?"

"We wait for the fun to start," Ino answered in a matter-of-fact manner, as she smoothed out the wrinkles on his clothes, her fingers leaving sparkling, telltale paths over his shirt. "And, Shika, that's when I'll need you the most." Her eyes flitted to his. "So, tell me, do you like this plan?"

Shikamaru thought about it hard, and for a good, long while.

"Yeah," he ceded, finally, his nonchalant acceptance accompanied by an equally nonchalant shrug. "I like it."

Ino released his jacket with a knowing smirk. "Mm, I bet you do," she spoke, as she glided past him, binoculars in hand. "Come on. I'll tell you what we're going to do."

She reached the parapet in three, quick strides, and, without pause, clambered onto it, swinging her legs over the edge to sit, her feet dangling about forty meters from the ground. Then, as if she hadn't just done something heart-stoppingly mad, Ino looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, as if to say _, "What are you gonna do about it?"_

Shikamaru looked to the sky and sighed. One moment she was flirting with him, and the next she was purposely trying to scare him with her antics. It was like she wanted to make his heart burst or something. "Troublesome woman," he grumbled under his breath, even as he made his way to her side.

True to form, Ino met his unimpressed glare with a giggle. "Sit with me?" she asked, sweetness personified once again, as she patted the spot next to her. "I promise I won't push you."

He narrowed his eyes at her but complied all the same. "Just so you know, if you try anything, I'm taking you with me," he vowed, tone serious.

"Oh, but wouldn't that be _so_ poetic?" Ino teased, nudging him with her elbow. "Just imagine it: the two of us – falling together."

"To our deaths, yes," he mumbled, as he eyed the forty-meter drop. They were shinobi, true, but one (literal) misstep and a fall from this height could prove fatal. Now, add in the fact that, should it happen, he would have died while on. a frivolous mission to spy on his best friend's marriage proposal…

He cringed. He was _not_ going to die here.

Seeing the look on his face, Ino gave a light laugh. "I'm kidding, sheesh! You know I'd never dream of it." Then she gazed up at him, her eyes softening as she reached out to squeeze his hand. "Besides, I think I'd much rather live, with you."

Shikamaru froze, his breath hitching slightly, and for a terribly long moment, all he could do was stare at this woman – this complicated, gorgeous, troublesome woman – and listen to her tell him things he didn't know he wanted to hear.

It no longer mattered that they were sitting on top of an abandoned building, or that his best friend was about to be engaged, or that these god-awful, emotion-led thoughts were ruling his judgment: all he could see was Ino and her pretty, blue eyes that sent all his doubts scurrying away, until suddenly, he couldn't imagine tomorrow without her.

He cracked a lopsided grin – because, really, what else could one do in this situation? – and held her hand, squeezing back gently. "Yeah, I like the sound of that."

A tremulous giggle spilled from her lips, sweet and lilting to his ears. "You're sure?" she prodded, smiling shyly. "Even if I'm troublesome? Or that I find little ways to annoy you? Constantly? That I'd probably nag you to death if you don't—"

Shikamaru pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her. "You can trouble me for the rest of my goddamned life, Yamanaka Ino. I don't care," he spoke, conviction lacing his words. "You can bang on my window at 3 a.m., demanding to be let in – I don't give a damn. You can drag me out of bed, mess up my apartment, force me into this dumb plan, bring shitty egg salads into my home, and all that crap, and I'll still think—"

Shikamaru broke off abruptly, a realization hitting him like a blast of cold wind. This was all absurdly, sickeningly romantic – Ino, a blush slowly creeping across her cheeks; the warmth of her hand against his; this impulsive, shout-it-from-the-rooftops-style confession; the village lights twinkling beneath them; the millions of stars blanketing the sky; and all of it punctuated by little strains of music trailing from a nearby hall.

It was cliché and representative of everything he hated about all those stories and films she loved so much.

But it was also perfect, and he couldn't bear to deny her this moment. Not now, or ever.

So Shikamaru drew a breath and looked straight into her eyes. "I'll still think," he started, continuing right where he left off. "I'll always think: I can't do better than this. I _know_ I can't."

And without any hesitation, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss – gently and languorously, like the way she kissed him before, in that rundown theater lobby in Taiko Avenue, in front of that aghast receptionist some four or five hours ago. He could remember feeling confused and a little mortified then, but he was certain now – more certain than anything in his life – that this was right, this was for them, and this was exactly how he'd like to kiss her for the rest of their lives.

"Ino," he whispered, after they had broken apart, their faces flushed and breathing ragged. He pressed his forehead to hers gently, watching as her eyes fluttered open, dazed but glittering.

"Um, hi, Shika," she managed, with a self-conscious giggle. "Hey, that was..."

"Amazing?" he supplied, smirking.

Ino scoffed and hit his arm. "Ugh, don't flatter yourself."

"Ow! Jeez, is that how you say 'thanks' in the Yamanaka household?"

" _Yes_ , so you better get used to it," she replied, snippy.

Shikamaru exhaled heavily. "Ah, I already regret this decision."

Ino chuckled and poked his side playfully. "Well, unfortunately for you, there's a no-backsies rule in place, mister. You are tied to this one for a _very_ long time."

He clicked his tongue in mock annoyance and shrugged. "Hn, I guess I should've read the contract."

"Yes, you should've," she agreed, and raised the binoculars to her eyes. "Now, let's get back to business. So, before we were interrupted by this moon-eyed lover boy—"

Shikamaru glared at her.

"—we were just about to check on Choji and Karui, whose table is right over..." She squinted at the lenses, shifting an inch to the left very, _very_ carefully. "Right over... There! Ha! See, Shika? I found them, too!"

"Never said you couldn't do it," he drawled. "And it's not that hard."

"Oh, they're already halfway through dessert," exclaimed Ino, ignoring him and providing the commentary he didn't ask for. "Hm, chocolate ganache – classy. Hey, do you think Mr. Miyamoto could give us a slice or two of that? Ugh, this is making me hungry."

"Yeah, well, now you know the struggle."

"I'm serious, Shika! I _am_ hungry! Hey, you know what? We should get dinner after this. There's a nice place a couple of blocks from here. Sakura says they serve really good _tempura,_ but I don't know if I should trust the taste buds of a woman who would eat _anmitsu_ every day if she could. That's super disgusting, because everyone knows pudding is the best. Anyway, _tempura_ – is that okay? Or would you rather go somewhere else?"

Shikamaru smirked, feeling oddly thrilled at the prospect of Ino asking _him_ out. Weird how things turn out, huh? " _Tempura_ sounds good."

A wide grin crossed her lips. "Alright, great!" she cheered, her excitement palpable in her tone. "Ugh, I cannot wait to get out of here. Oh, gods, can Choji just please propose already? He's on his last bite of cake, and Karui's just about finished with hers – it's perfect timing! I don't understand why he won't just..."

Ino trailed off suddenly, her mouth agape.

"Oh, my god, she whispered, her grip tightening. "He's got the ring." She lowered the binoculars in one swift movement and turned to him, practically yelling, "He's got the ring! Choji's got the ring!"

Shikamaru took this as his cue to move. "Okay," he sighed, standing up and heading for Ino's crate of supplies and surprises.

There wasn't much inside. Most of the space was taken up by the glitter-streaked petals, and the only other item was a satchel of scrolls – Wind-type, he guessed, based on the small stamped marks. He would've wondered where exactly she got those from – Elemental jutsu wasn't really in her wheelhouse – but he didn't have the time for it, if Ino's excited gasps were any indication.

He dragged the box as close to the parapet as possible. An idea on what she wanted with these items was fomenting in his mind. It was ridiculous, but which Ino-led idea wasn't? In fact, it was so ridiculous, he was 95% sure it was exactly what she planned on doing.

Shikamaru glanced at her discreetly.

No, he thought, make that a hundred per cent sure.

Resigned to his task, Shikamaru began selecting all the scrolls he could use and stacked them nearby. He laid the satchel and the rest of its contents aside – they'll have to return them to whoever they belonged to at some point – and took a deep breath.

"Well, this is it," he muttered to himself, before piling a mound of rose petals on the parapet's surface.

Then he looked at the village, searching for the approximate point where the Miyamotos' restaurant stood. He'd have to get it right the first time; a proposal could only take so long.

Satisfied with his calculations, Shikamaru took a step back and unfolded the scroll, turning the seal towards the petals. Elemental scrolls weren't part of his usual gear, either, but he'd tried them out before. Hopefully, this wouldn't turn out disastrously wrong.

Steadying his breath, he gathered chakra in his hands, coursing it slowly through the paper and towards the inked seal. A light gray aura began to grow around him, and Shikamaru braced himself for the possibility of recoil. Most likely, there wouldn't be any, considering how comparatively small the amount of chakra he was actually filtering through, but one never really knew. Hell, he didn't even know how old these scrolls were, or if the person who sealed them was good at his job or not.

Regardless, he'd still have to fire the thing – sooner, rather than later – and, already, he could feel Ino's gaze boring into him from a meter away...

A column of wind rolled from the middle of the scroll, sending the petals hurtling into the air and towards downtown Konoha. Shikamaru followed its progress with narrowed eyes. If his calculation was correct, the whirlwind would start to dissipate a block away from the restaurant, disappear completely over the adjacent establishment, and drop its contents on the target roof deck.

In spite of himself, he felt a tinge of nerves as he looked over at Ino, who was peering through the glasses again. There was a stilted strain to her stance, and he could hardly blame her – this was her plan, a sort of realization of dreams (in more ways than one). As much as he detested the work, he'd hate it if she ended up disappointed in the end.

Slowly, though, a smile began to crack on her lips. "Shika," she squealed, as she swiveled around, jumping off the parapet and running towards him as quickly as she could. "Shika! You did it! You actually did it!"

Ino flung her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a few steps, but that was alright. She was happy, and that was all that mattered, really.

"Oh, Shika, it was amazing," Ino gushed, her eyes shining with delight. "You should've seen the look on their faces! Choji was so shocked, he could barely get the words out, and Karui was just _in awe_. You know what? Everything was so worth it, just for that." She looked up at him and smiled. "And it couldn't have happened without you."

Shikamaru scoffed, waving dismissively. "It's nothing," he answered, only half-lying. "I'm glad to be of help."

"Still," she said, grasping both of his hands firmly. "Thank you for everything."

He shrugged. "Hn, I'm just glad I'm not receiving your gratitude Yamanaka-style."

Ino laughed and, with a glimmer of coyness in her eyes, proceeded to draw him closer. "Well," she whispered, rising on tip-toes slowly. "I think you deserve to be thanked some other way, hm?"

Shikamaru regarded her advance with interest. "Really, now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah," she growled low in his ear, before abruptly pulling away with a cheeky grin. "I'll buy you dinner," she announced, before flouncing off to resume her surveillance.

Momentarily confused, Shikamaru watched her depart with a bit of a sense of betrayal. "Hey, Ino, what the hell was—"

"Be quiet for a minute, darling," she ordered, lifting a hand to silence him, her eyes focused on the scene below. "I've got a fireworks show to choreograph with Konohamaru. We'll talk later. And, also, if you would be so kind..."

Deftly, she pointed at her crate, still half-full with petals and glitter.

Shikamaru sighed. Right, of course.

Walking back to his station, he picked out another scroll to use and, like before, built a pile of petals on top of the parapet. He squinted out at the village, reconfirmed the target's location, and unfurled his scroll.

"Ready?" he called out, warming up to this.

Ino looked at him, still grinning, and winked. "Ready."

Shikamaru smirked back.

Really, he wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

 _Author's Note: And, done! I am so very sorry I took so long to write this out, but if you're still waiting for this, thank you very much, and I do hope you enjoyed the ending! If you see any errors, please let me know as I am on my phone right now writing/editing this out. Oh, and_ _I will try to squeeze in a birthday fic or two (because it's ShikaIno Week, you guys!) on the weekend, so maybe stick around for that! Again, thank you for reading my overly fluffy fic, and I hope you have the greatest day!_


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